Dark Duck 13: Tricks With Mirrors
by VAPX007
Summary: "Who cares!" Megavolt shut his eyes and turned over, pulling the insulation blanket up over his head. "I've got nobody to use it on anymore, anyway." Oh, the dark, pondering insanity of it all. & yeah, I know but that's the end of the chapter.
1. Prologue:  Simply Electrifying

_**Disclaimer:** Megavolt, Darkwing Duck and their long time associates do not belong to me. You'll find them buried in a back room somewhere at the Mickey Mouse Corporation gathering dust and depreciation._

_**Disclaimer: **I know I don't write very well. I don't know what I can do to improve. I only know how to make it worse. _

_A/N: This chapter WAS LONGER, I have deleted the first skit, which does create an under weight to the overall ambience of the fic, but maybe it is better this way for the audience. What would I know? This is just an experiment in a void._

**_In cyberspace no one can hear you scream. _**

**_More importantly, unlike outer space, not even the _Hubble _is listening._**

* * *

**Prologue: Simply Electrifying**

_(...This Skit H__as Been Deleted To Meet Imaginary Readership Standards...)_

* * *

_Red Herring Warehouse ..._

Megavolt jolted awake. He jumped up and sprang five feet away from where he'd been lying. His heart was pounding. He turned around to view the familiar faces. They were the rest of the Fearsome Five. "What the ...?"

"Megavolt, what'd'ya see?" Quackerjack asked excitedly. It took a moment for Megavolt to even remember what in fact had happened.  
"Morgana's dream potion?" He looked at the offending bottle and the empty shot glass beside it. He'd obliged the others and taken a small dose. But what he'd dreamt had nothing to do with their next planned heist.

What he'd dreamt had been his own death.

"It's not just any old dream potion." Liquidator chortled. "This one comes with a 90% guaranteed accuracy in predicting ..."  
"Get away from me!" Megavolt snarled, not wanting to be reminded, and Liquidator was puddling far too close. He backed away from the water-based accident-waiting-to-happen. "Almost every time I'm in the room with you I get shorted out. And I wonder why my memory is so bad!" He accused his associate.

"Quit it, Sparky." Negaduck said calmly from his chair, his webbed feet up on the desk in front of him. He had the usual yellow glint in his eyes. "We know it worked. Tell us what you saw."  
"Sparky!" The emotions threatened to burst out of Megavolt, heck, why not, he was a super villain anyway ... He flung a reasonably large bolt of energy at Negaduck, thoroughly crisping his yellow and red outfit into smoldering grey and black. Negaduck coughed.

"There, now you're almost a match for Darkwing Duck!" He yelled at Negaduck, not giving the evil duck a chance for him to be angry back. "You can go out and start impersonating him again!" He stormed several feet away towards the door.

"Megs?" He turned on Bushroot's hesitant voice.  
"Don't you start; I'll grill you like eggplant. And you!" Megavolt pointed at Quackerjack, and hesitated. "I don't mind you so much, Quackerjack, but if that doll comes anywhere near me again, I'll turn him into banana fritters!"

He slammed the door behind him.

"Megavolt?" He whirled around and hurled a bolt of electricity now that he was in the habit. "Are you okay?"  
"You, you ...vampire! You leave me alone too!" Megavolt turned away from the impervious Darkwing Duck who just stood there blinking at him, a look of concern on his face. "I wanna be alone." He muttered. "I've always been alone."  
"Well, okay, then. I'll just be in here." Darkwing turned to the door of the Fearsome Five's short-term hideout and came at it with a flying kick. "I am the terror that flaps in the night!"

"That's the last time I'll let myself be someone's experiment." Then Megavolt sighed, getting emotional control back. "I'd better ..." Do what? He was useless against Darkwing Duck. He needed something...

"Got it!" He blinked as Darkwing appeared beside him again. In Darkwing's hands was the bottle that Liquidator had stolen from Morgana Macawber's collection. "She'll be glad to have this back." Darkwing glanced at Megavolt. "See you guys next time, and don't forget your sneakers!"

* * *

_Meanwhile, Elsewhere On the Planet..._

The wooden door slammed open on a lavishly decorated sitting room. Lush green plants from exotic places only added to the rich red cushions and the gold leafed decor. The wooden furniture was antique and well kept.

The duck at the desk ignored her fury as his Girl Friday stormed into the room. "I take it the fashion fair wasn't a success."  
She slapped the packet of photos down on the table. "I quit. I'm sick of those brainless geese flocking around and trying to make something good out of some ... scrappy piece of fabric someone had the hide to call 'fashion'. If you don't give me a real job, David, I'm outta here."  
"Now, Fell, be reasonable."  
"Be reasonable? That's what you said last year. And the year before that!" She clenched her beak. "I'm so stupid, waiting around all these years for you, David. I quit." She turned away from him.

"Wait a minute here." He reached over the desk and grabbed her arm before she could step away from the desk. "I'm not finished with you, just yet." His eyes narrowed.

She looked down as his harsh fingers slowly released her. "Oh, is that how you feel about it?" She said, quietly. She turned around slowly, and then climbed up onto the desk. "Why didn't you tell me?" She grinned quietly at him; something insane flickered in her eyes.  
"Well, I only just broke up with ..."  
"Miss plastic beak." She said with sarcasm rife in her voice. Then she grabbed his collar and hauled him onto the table. She sat on top of him.

"In ... all the years I've known you, you've never done this before." He remarked as she inclined her head to him.  
"And I won't have to again." She snapped her beak closed over his neck. Several moments later, she pulled away.  
"You ..." She went digging into her purse. He grabbed her, but she pulled away in time.

She back flipped away as he struggled up. "Fell." He teetered unsteadily. "Felicia, I still won't let you go."  
"Su-ure, okay. Not as if I'll take it to heart!" She raised her arm, and threw the stake at him. His body turned to dust.

Alone in the room, Felicia picked up the stake from the mound of dust and shoved it back in her purse again. "Like I said. I'm done sweetening these lemons." She closed the door quietly behind her. "I just want to be alone." She sighed honestly to herself. "No, not really."

But after so many years it was something she was comfortable with, at least.

* * *

_Moral/Overview: Drinking something from a bottle rarely brings happiness._


	2. Flashes

**Parental Advisory: **Strong Vampire Themes  
**VAPX007: **If you feel my rating is wrong, please review me and say so.  
***silence, bats chirruping in the background...***  
**VAPX007: **Huh, guess it's fine where it is then.

**Language Content: **Occasional Technobabble use  
**VAPX007: **Because this is a Megavolt story, I think I can get away with this. If you disagree, please review me and say so.  
***silence, fridge droning on in the background...***  
**VAPX007: **Huh, guess I'm right with this one too...

**PLOT A: **The action story - St Canard is in danger once again, oh, do wonders never cease to amaze?

**PLOT DELTA: **The character story - Take one electric rodent and make him the relative centre of attention.

**PLOT III: **The Overarching Dark Duck plot line that needs no further introduction.

And so I now give to you:

* * *

**DARK DUCK III - Tricks With Mirrors**

**Chapter One: Flashes**

* * *

_Friday Afternoon at Xo Technology Building..._

_After a somewhat lengthy project meeting with the other managers, Jason Waterrat came back into his lab. They were so close to it, he was excited and positively twitching to get back to work. He dumped the work papers back on his stack next to his family photos and looked around. __Now that he was paying attention to the room looking for Barry, he could hear the sound of the equipment humming. _

_"Barry, I thought you'd gone home." 'Wait ... why was the equipment on?' Jason groaned. Typical of his insufferably arrogant nature, Barry never wanted to waste time with safety procedures ... "You know you're not supposed to be testing the equipment without another ..." He frowned, heading towards the area ... "team ... member ..." Through the Perspex glass, his eyes fell on the pig's still form in the chamber. "Oh, my god!" He madly deactivated the machine and dragged open the door, kneeling beside his co-worker._

_"Barry, Barry, are you okay?" Barry the pig struggled back up. "Oh, you're alive! What a relief."  
Without acknowledging Jason, Barry staggered out of the subatomic light waves testing room and Jason followed him.  
"When I came in, that thing was on. Oh, this is very bad, you could have hurt yourself." His concern for his co-worker was the only thing in his mind._

_The tiny rat darted over to the intercom. "I need an ambu-" Jason gasped snatching his hand away as the intercom machine suddenly frizzled and short-circuited. The sparks singed the fur on his fingers. "Barry, you're ..."  
__"I don't need an ambulance, Jason. This is everything I ever wanted. I did that," he pointed to the intercom, "I can do a whole lot more."  
__"I've got to stop you, Barry. You've gone crazy in the head from the effects of the machine."  
__"No, everything's so much clearer, now. You can't possibly understand how transient I feel." Barry glared at him. "And you're not."  
__"Ach, don't, you're ..."_

* * *

Darkwing Duck opened his eyes again as the agonized scream faded away and reality returned to him. He took a deep shaking breath. It happened every single time he walked into a room like this.

Launchpad and the security guard were already beside the body, considering the deathly remains of Xo technology research employee Jason Waterrat.  
"It looks like he was out in the desert for three weeks."  
"But," Darkwing countered to the security guard, "without stating the obvious, he couldn't have been."  
"Uh, because last night Waterrat was alive and he was here all that time?"  
"Because Launchpad will say it for me. Now." He moved forwards and studied the corpse through his microscope.

"Uh, perhaps we should be handling the forensics, mister Darkwing?" He tucked his microscope away and looked up at the Forensic Investigators now in the room.  
"Yes, I'm done here." He added, "It doesn't look like physical assault, probably some light-heat effect by a weapon of some kind, I'd also like to know what these people were working on, that might have some connection to this."

"Come on LP; let's check out the surveillance cameras." He needed proof of the killer, not a death echo, that'd never hold up in court! Hopefully the FIs could lift some tangible evidence against Barry Gilmore.  
"But Darkwing, sir, they don't cover the inner labs."  
"No-oo," Darkwing replied to the security officer, "but they do cover the exit path to and from this area."

Darkwing stepped into the next passageway just before the corridor with the camera. "... Unless of course the perpetrator simply blasts a hole in the wall and exits that way." He used his magnifier on the curled linoleum and considered the shape of the hole. He looked out at the twenty storey drop in shock.

"Looks like the metal supports have been melted right through."  
"He must have jumped to the next ... But that's not really feasible either ... What did that machine actually ...? I wonder what he meant by transient ...?"  
Launchpad tapped his finger on the masonry work, it crumbled away into ash. "Ash. What does that to cement?"  
"I don't know, LP. But you can bet that it was something really hot." Darkwing considered for a long moment. "Let's go see that camera footage." Evidence was what he needed, and fast.

"But he left this way."  
"Exactly, the blast pattern is from the inside. The guy left by blasting a hole. That means he was already inside. And therefore, the cameras will have that story."

* * *

The security alarm woke Megavolt up the next morning after his mental episode. He jolted out of bed, looking at his security setup.

"Quackerjack." As if the jester had heard his name, Megavolt heard him let out a wild out-of-kilter laugh. Megavolt reset the system and turned around from the monitor screen.

"Come on, Megsy, buddy!" Quackerjack exploded into the room with his loud and vibrant self.  
"I figure you're all mad at me from yesterday."  
"Hey, that never stopped us working together before." Megavolt's tension abated a little. Quackerjack's brightness was the perfect opposite to Megavolt's gloom, a reason that Megavolt couldn't hate him, even if he tried.

"Come on, we've got a bank to heist and a Duck to divert." Quackerjack looked around. "Or you can't pay for all this equipment you've got laying around." He strode across the room, looking curiously at everything.

"No!" Megavolt herded Quackerjack away before he found Megavolt's favourite success and dismantled her. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He looked back at the security console as Quackerjack started down the stairwell. "I'll be back, Ulti, don't worry."

The machine sitting unassumingly plugged into the security setup beeped in uncertainty as Megavolt went down the stairs after Quackerjack. Megavolt paused on the stairwell, considering Ulti's final beeps of suggestion. He headed back up and looked uncertainly at Ulti.  
"Well, I dunno, it didn't do anything the last time." The machine beeped again. "Second time's the charm, huh?" He shrugged, "Well, if you say so." He went to the closet, and Quackerjack popped his head back up to the level.

"Megavolt, what's the hold up?"  
"Hang on, Quackers; I'm just getting my vacuum cleaner!"

* * *

_Moral/Overview: In any relationship there is an element of trust and risk._


	3. Plates and Pitchforks

___A/N: It's playtiime!_

_A/N: 99 red balloons ... So you thought you escaped that disaster, huh? Think again..._

**

* * *

**

Chapter Two: Plates and Pitchforks

_Friday Evening..._

Darkwing Duck watched the traffic lights in the distance turn orange and slowed the rat-catcher down to wait with the mass of other cars.

"DW, why did you need to get a new dinner set today? Didn't you just buy a new one last week?"  
"Well yes, but I ... I ... I broke them all." Darkwing blushed behind his mask and turned away.

"The whole lot of them?"  
"No, I mean, I've got a couple of cups left ... hey look, are you going to keep criticizing me all night, Launchpad?"  
"Okay, so what about the bread plates?"  
"That was lunch today."  
"Well ... how are you for cookware?"  
"No, they're made of steel, they're alright. Although, now I think about it, I do need a new ..." The light turned green and the traffic started moving approaching the freeway entrance.

"I thought you didn't like Gosalyn playing ball games in the house because she kept breaking things. Now here you are throwing dishes around."  
"Launchpad, for your information, I'm honing my mind through a series of high intensity training exercises."  
"Oh, okay. It does look to me like you're having fun though."  
Darkwing sighed. "Alright, LP, I give in. You win again."

Launchpad chuckled. "Don't worry, DW, your secret's safe with me."  
"What secret? That my ten year old school child's errant behaviour is only matched by my own?"  
"Of course not, DW." Launchpad replied without missing a beat. "I'd call it high-spirited if anything."

* * *

Megavolt glanced down the motorway as he clung to the outside of the cement barricade, checking Quackerjack was in position a few hundred metres down. He returned to watch the endless line of Friday afternoon exodus traffic coming out from the city, looking for their target.

Only one particular truck would do. Negaduck had falsified the shipment order himself. "There it is in the outside lane, Licky!" Megavolt pointed.

"Caution: Slippery when wet!" The Liquidator slicked himself flat against the road under the oncoming cars, the truck came rumbling up the highway towards them.

"Oops, looks like somebody forgot to check the battery before they left!" Just as the truck began churning Liquidator up against the undercarriage, Megavolt flung a bolt of electricity at him turning him into an electrical conductor.

Overloaded with the power, the truck's engine sputtered out and the truck swerved on the super villain slick. It went screeching long and painfully against the concrete embankment till it came to a final shuddering stop right near Quackerjack.

"Yes!" Megavolt sparked. He loved to see his plans work so perfectly. And he couldn't resist to see the ending. Liquidator reformed beside him and they watched the next few seconds play out.

"Oo, look what we have!" Quackerjack laughed as he pogo-ed to the back of the truck. He unbolted the back door, and thousands of dollars in bouncing ball merchandise rolled tumbling out the back door and bounced into the mayhem of congested traffic around them. If two thousand bouncing balls and a stuck truck didn't keep their nemesis entertained, Megavolt reasoned, nothing would.

* * *

"DW, lookout!" Darkwing screeched the tyres of the rat-catcher to a stop behind the car in front of them.

The traffic around them ground to a stop with them.

"It's a truck!" Darkwing jumped off the rat-catcher and jumped up on top of the car in front. "Oh, no way you don't!" He closed his eyes.

The criminal trio didn't wait around. They were already hundreds of metres away when the balls began bouncing backwards by ones, twos then threes, fours, till all of them were back in the truck. The door slammed shut behind them, the latch relocked.

"Ha! I did it! All it needed was the right motivation!" Darkwing jumped off the car, beaming at Launchpad feeling rather boyish but he didn't care. Launchpad grinned back.

* * *

Darkwing reached into the sidecar compartment. "Could you please take care of this, LP?" He pulled out a pair of roller-skates and his fedora hat, returning his helmet in their place. He put the hat on his head. "I've got to make a trip to the bank and I don't have time for traffic jams."  
"No problem-o, DW." Darkwing hooked the skates behind him and turned into a cloud of vapour.

"Any other vampire wouldn't get away with that." Launchpad grinned as he looked into the compartment. Crockery set, helmet, microscope, grapple. He put these on the seat and ferreted through the remaining bits and pieces. Tuning fork, stakes, a mirror, sunglasses, cell phone, rubber ball, ball of twine, scissors, notepad, set square, calculator ...

"Ah, there's the handle." At last he'd gotten to the bottom. He pulled out the new auto battery, and then he pulled out his toolkit. He replaced the rest of the bulky items, and then walked to the front of the traffic bank up.

* * *

"All the balls are back in the truck."

Launchpad considered the men standing there in confusion at the back of the truck. "Can I see if I can't get your truck working again?"  
"But what about the balls? How is that even possible?"  
"I thought you said they were all in the back of the truck?" Launchpad asked them.  
"I'm not mad, they are in there but I saw them go out."  
"I'm sure there's a perfectly sane explanation for that." Launchpad said kindly.

"Look, I know what I saw. Hundreds of motorists just saw it."  
"But if they are in there now, there's no problem, is there?"  
They blinked at him. "How do you account for what just happened?  
"You just stepped out of an accident." He smiled charitable yet elusive at the truckie. "You should sit down and take a break."

Launchpad began whistling as he made his way to the front of the truck. "I guess DW and Gosalyn have finished practicing on the crockery then."

Launchpad poked his head into the cab compartment and popped the hood. "Knowing Megavolt, it'll be the battery that's short-circuited from being overcharged ..." Launchpad went around reviewing the state of the engine.

He looked at the battery. He opened up his toolkit, glancing at the battery sitting beside it on the road. "Good pick, DW." The only difference between the batteries was that DW had bought the new one right before this happened. It didn't happen all the time, but sometimes DW's gut feelings had a bit more insight to them.

* * *

_Over at the Bank..._

It'd been months since their last real heist together, and by this time they'd all been looking for more cash, even Liquidator. Whatever Negaduck thought of his screwball associates, his most successful crimes in this version of St Canard always happened when they worked together.

He charged in through the glass doors and pointed his gun at the after-hours guards. "Nobody move." They were motionless. "Bushroot, tie them up."

Bushroot finished tying up the bank guards and the remainder of the Fearsome Five came in through the doors. The timing was perfect. Negaduck grinned happily.

"Ah, Megavolt, just the person we've been waiting for to do the honours." Negaduck gestured to the electronic locking system on the vault. Megavolt obliged, stepping towards the panel.  
The loony rat addressed the device as if it could hear him. "Now, don't worry, this won't hurt a bit." Before he even raised a finger to the control panel, a dark voice resounded about the room.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!"

On the sound of the dark voice Megavolt turned to gaze at Negaduck with a look of sheer disbelief. "Does anything stop this guy?" He droned.  
"Gee, that's some diversion of yours, Megavolt!" Negaduck snarled at him and then back at the other two angrily. "I thought you guys took care of it!"  
"We did, boss!" Quackerjack insisted.

The dark voice sounded again, this time louder, slower and darker ... "I am the vampire that haunts your nightmares!"

"What do we do, Negaduck?" Bushroot asked, looking at Negaduck. "Negaduck?"

* * *

_'... I am the vampire that haunts your nightmares ...' _

Negaduck clasped his hands to his beak, fearing his heart might erupt from it. Those horrid words! His stomach plunged. Without his permission his mind returned back to the nightmare that'd been haunting him every other night for what seemed like forever.

_The sound of beating wings, the loud shriek, the quiet growl, the noisy hiss. The savage rage, the piercing gaze. The sharp claws, the ravenous snatch. And then, and then ... _he gulped for air, his hands to his neck in remembrance. _That hot damp breath followed by that certain sharp incision. All of this so far only heralded the worst of it;_ he shuddered.

Since then, time and time again, even when he wasn't remembering the rest of his ordeal, it came back to him. That tormenting feeling returned to him. _The feeling: his strength draining away from him, his total lack of power over the decision on whether he lived ... or died._

* * *

Instead of answering Bushroot in this moment before Darkwing Duck appeared in the room, Negaduck tranced out. Megavolt had never seen this before. The reason that Negaduck was the leader was because he snapped out decisions so quickly.

Apparently ... not tonight.

So Megavolt made his own decision. He reached back and unhooked the hose for his vacuum cleaner, charging it up. The moment Darkwing Duck came for him, Megavolt would clean him up. The cloud of vapour appeared across the room and started taking form. There wasn't time to wait for Negaduck's instructions now. The only thing Megavolt would wait for was a good clean shot at the vampire. 'Please let him come within range.'

"Negaduck!" Bushroot repeated, shaking their fearless criminal leader back into reality. The plant-duck obviously felt differently from Megavolt. "What should we do?" And Darkwing was flesh and blood in front of them just five metres away.

"... Run!" Negaduck suddenly shouted and pelted out of the bank, nearly shattering the front doors as he shoved through them.

"W-what?" Megavolt blinked at the vision of Darkwing Duck, not sure if he'd heard correctly. "But ..." The others hesitated, and then followed Negaduck. "But it's just ..."

Megavolt rehooked the hose onto his back and followed, stopping outside the doors. "It's just Darkwing Duck!" He yelled after them into the distance. "Oh, come on!" He raced to catch up to them. What a waste of time and effort this had been!

* * *

_Moral/Overview: Think clearly, make reasonable decisions. Regret nothing that you enjoyed doing._


	4. Hell Not Gym

_A/N: Well, I like it._

* * *

**Chapter Three: Hell Not Gym**

The Fearsome Five's bank withdrawal had been shortchanged, and they were on the run. Following Negaduck, they dashed into the high school auditorium.

The light from the moon spilt in behind them through the open door.

Megavolt gasped for breath, looking down at the dull wooden floor. Megavolt hated this place. He always had awful experiences when it came to school gyms. What was more, he had a bad feeling about this, as he looked around the dark cavernous room...

In the gloom, he could see the chair stand was out, probably for a basketball match, basketball hoops jutting out in the distance at either end. Gym mats were stacked up neatly in a corner, large ball bags slouched against the far wall. It had been just another ordinary Friday in the life of a modern torture chamber. But the equipment hadn't gotten packed away for the weekend? How odd...

He turned to the wall beside them and saw ... a mop and three buckets? So the school was still trying to get funding to fix the stupid leaking roof? He looked up towards the wooden cross beams. No way could he see the damage from down here. But ... it ... hadn't rained ... in a week. Already rapidly pounding from the sprint, now his heart clenched painfully with the feeling of doom.

* * *

"All right, that jackass will never find us in here." Negaduck said assuredly.

"Find us? ... Are you mad?" Megavolt yelled with every scrap of each short breath. He gestured to the obvious setup in front of them. "... Now he's in front of us! ... At least with my plan ... he was minutes behind us." Megavolt was still breathing rapidly, but he was gaining control.

"Shut up, Megavolt." Negaduck warned.  
"Why were we even running? ... We could run forever and still get duck tailed!"  
Negaduck grabbed him, shaking him. "Have you seen what a vampire can do to you? So shut up or I'll take it out of your hide."  
Megavolt growled. "Actually, I have!" His breathing finally became more natural as he stared Negaduck in the eye, making sure the duck knew he wasn't lying.

"And don't ... go breathing down my neck!" Megavolt shoved him away. "I'm not afraid of some demented duck in a costume," he narrowed his eyes, "and I'm not afraid of Darkwing Duck, either."  
Negaduck blinked at the underhanded insult, his hand hesitating on his weapon at his hip.  
But Megavolt didn't raise a finger. "You need me to defeat the 'vampire menace', Negaduck." Megavolt snorted in derision. He knew he wasn't at risk at the moment.

"That's what I like about you, Megavolt. You've got so much attitude. It doesn't matter where you aim it because you'll still have plenty left over to obliterate the real target."  
"For your information, my aiming is perfectly accurate, and all my targets are real." Megavolt knew from past painful experiences that Negaduck didn't like anyone for anything but for what use he could make of them.

* * *

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."  
"So much for your plan, Negaduck." Megavolt snorted.

The Fearsome Five looked around them in nervous anticipation.  
"Where's it coming from?" Quackerjack quivered.  
"All around us." Their green counterpart answered.  
"Oh, gee, that's really helpful, Bushroot." Negaduck sneered.  
"Hey! If you don't like the answers don't ask the questions." Bushroot said with indignance.  
"I am the shadow cast by no object." Megavolt was inspired to count their shadows. One, two...  
"Hey, look!" Megavolt pointed to the floor in front of them. Negaduck's shadow was in duplicate. They looked at each other for a moment then pounced on the air behind Negaduck. They landed in a heap and scrabbled back to a stand. Megavolt narrowly avoided connecting with Liquidator.

* * *

As they were getting up, their nemesis was standing in front of them and grabbed Negaduck. Darkwing trussed him up, then threw the other end of the rope up and over one of the roof support beams and heaved to. Negaduck was suspended in mid-air and Darkwing tied the other end down to the heavy weighted chair stand.

* * *

Before Darkwing Duck had turned around from the ropes, Megavolt had gotten his vacuum hose ready.  
"That gets him out of the way for a while." Darkwing said, turning. "Now. Time to ..."

"Suck gas? Good idea!" Megavolt pointed the hose and flicked the switch. The room was suddenly silent as the vacuum powered down.  
"Did you get him?" Bushroot said nervously. "You certainly surprised him."  
"Yeah, I ... I actually did!" Megavolt craned his neck and looked at the bagless chamber on his back in pure astonishment. It was filled with a thick black swirling substance.

* * *

But it didn't stop swirling. The cleaner began to vibrate and then the machine was out of control. Megavolt yanked the straps off his shoulders and dropped it on the ground. A second later, the vacuum cleaner smashed into a dozen useless plastic fragments. Darkwing reformed, spinning around in its spot.

He coughed. "I am ... minced ... duck." He spun around unsteadily again.  
"Alright, so let's try fried duck!" Megavolt zapped him.  
Darkwing stopped spinning.  
"Uh-oh." The instant he'd done it, Megavolt knew he'd made a mistake.

* * *

"Ah." The Masked Mallard steadied himself on his feet. "Well done, Megavolt." He pulled out a roll of electrical tape from his breast pocket. "Or should I say I prefer ... well done Megavolt!" He started towards Megavolt.

If Megavolt had known Liquidator was right behind him, he wouldn't have stepped back.

But he didn't. Megavolt backed away as Darkwing advanced and bumped into Liquidator, shorting him out in a painful moment. Darkwing grabbed Megavolt and taped him up in the next second. From this point on, all Megavolt could do was watch Darkwing take out the rest of them.

* * *

Darkwing sidestepped the tree roots Bushroot summoned up through the floorboards.

"Say, Bushroot, is something ... bugging you? Try this!" He fired his gas gun at Bushroot.  
The plant-duck coughed before he could draw roots around Darkwing. "P-pesticide?" He dropped weakly to the floor. "O-okay s'really ... dizzy."

* * *

"All doctors recommend that you keep your fluids up!" Liquidator flung himself at the crime fighter.

Darkwing grabbed one of the buckets used for the leaking roof and caught the Liquidator. He then spun around centrifugal, and threw the water-based dog into the gigantic pile of gym mats on the other side of the room. Liquidator was stuck in the stack.

Darkwing had definitely set this up, Megavolt groaned. Those mats should have had plastic covers.  
"What'd'ya know? I've sponged Bud."

* * *

Darkwing turned around onto Quackerjack. "Oh, wait a second here, I've brought just the thing with me today." He reached behind him and pulled out a set of roller-skates, grinning. Quackerjack backed away in confusion.

"You gonna beat me with roller-skates?" Darkwing slipped the skates on and skated a circle around Quackerjack. The demented toymaker pulled out his slinky. "Why not try a little spring in your step instead?" Darkwing grabbed at his duck-sized slinky and let go. It sprung back, catching the jester up in his own trap.

* * *

Darkwing Duck then skated across the dull wooden floor, grabbed at a sack of sporting equipment, spilling basketballs, soccer balls and footballs across the gym floor. He took the bag, and came to a standstill below Negaduck, just as the criminal managed to cut himself free of the rope. Negaduck landed in the bag. Darkwing grabbed the cut rope from out of the air as it fell and trussed the bag tight around the duck.

"Yep, looks like I bagged me'self a right catch, eh?"  
"Ooh, you think you're so smart, Darkwing!" Megavolt steamed sodden under the electrical taping as Darkwing tucked the skates behind him along with his gas gun. It wasn't the humiliation at being caught, it was Darkwing's excessive punning that made Megavolt so furious. It was just downright obnoxious.

"You are all going to jail."

* * *

A sound of a crowd echoed into the auditorium, followed by a police squad and wouldn't you know it, news reporters. Megavolt groaned, remembering how much Darkwing Duck loved the limelight.

"Guns, and cameras and ... pitchforks ..." Darkwing murmured. "Oh, no."

The lights flicked on in the gym, the people crowded into the room, snapping pictures left and right. Megavolt watched Darkwing draw his cape in front of him, like he was protecting himself from having his picture taken. "Hey, hey, hey!" Well, this was weird.

"Cut that out!" He whirled around at the cameraman that treaded past Megavolt. The look on Darkwing's face made Megavolt feel half so bad at being captured. The vampire was horrified, nearly agonized.

"Go away. I haven't done anything tonight that I haven't done countless times before."

* * *

All around them police officers buzzed, snapping handcuffs on the detainees.

"This is Raul Rhode, reporting live at the St Canard High School auditorium! As you can see before you, Darkwing Duck has just pinned down these hardened criminals after a failed ..."  
"Wait a second!" Darkwing gritted at the camera. Megavolt sighed. Apparently it didn't matter what people said, Darkwing always found something to disagree about.

"Can I just ask the audience something? What makes a criminal? Look at these guys. What happened to Megavolt? He was tormented and bullied. What happened to Bushroot? The exact same thing. Quackerjack? A result of long term rejection."  
"What?" Megavolt blinked at his enemy. He was getting ... sympathy? Why? Megavolt stared at Darkwing to find some reasoning to this. It might've been his shorted out brain, but it did feel like a while since the last time Darkwing had properly caught him like this.

"My point is society. It's people that can make a difference. A kind hand to the down trodden." He gestured to Megavolt. "Before they turn to a life of crime." The camera turned to look at Megavolt and the electric rodent blinked in disbelief at what happened in that split second. The instant all heads turned to Megavolt, Darkwing Duck had vanished.

"Oh, smart." Megavolt commented.  
"Now you see him ..." Bushroot began.  
"And now you don't!" Quackerjack finished Bushroot's line. Obviously he'd seen Darkwing disappear into a cloud of black vapour too.

"Mr. Darkwing, sir?" A news reporter called, the people all looked around the gym, but in vain.  
"Darkwing?"  
"Darkwing Duck?"

But this time, the caped hero did not appear on the call of his name.

* * *

_Moral/Overview: Subliminal conditioning is just a fact of life._


	5. Time Out

_A/N: Okay, so the scenes with Megavolt here should make some sort of sense. Being that we're looking from the inside of the head of a genius, everything should have a certain logic to it, even though it sometimes defies translation into the real world._

_Who could depict Megavolt's thoughts better than a fellow crazed, under-appreciated genius? One of those geniuses who, like him, have also spent long hours day in an day out and are sleep deprived due to too many late nights thinking up new ideas?_

_When I read the mental thoughts of Megavolt that I've written here, it is all too familiar and makes crystal clear sense. To me. The reactions of the people around him and his reactions to them are all based on my real life experiences. _

_My sympathy is with all fellow outsiders, because this sort of thing has probably happened to you as well._

_Except for the part about the 'keys'. In reality that part is called 'wishful thinking' and rarely happens._

_Cooee, did that last comment make sense to anyone but me? Doubtful! So now do you believe I have sufficient experience to monologue Megsy? Thank you!_

* * *

**Chapter Four: Time Out**

* * *

_A few minutes later..._

Darkwing Duck walked down the street, rubbing his head. "Uck, what's the matter with me?"

While he'd been fighting, he hadn't noticed any problems, but now he had a moment he suddenly realised there was a gap in his memory that he found slightly disconcerting. "Who was I fighting?" He couldn't remember and the empty street around him provided no clues.

"Launchpad?" He closed his eyes, looking for his friend's heart beats, seeking the set that matched his memory. He shifted into shadow form and headed towards his friend.

* * *

Launchpad watched two thugs attempting a break in on Fifth Street's Mad Hatter Emporium.

A thin crow was levering a door as a thick pig stood by, looking into the window of the place. Between them, Launchpad reasoned, it could get dangerous. Launchpad decided he could probably handle it, as neither of them was looking in his direction at the moment. He approached the pair in what he thought was a fairly stealthy fashion.

At exactly the wrong moment, the pig turned around and grabbed Launchpad by his collar. The thug lifted him high into the air. "I was watching you in the window, chump."  
Launchpad glanced at the dark window. "Oh. Heh. Thanks, I was wondering about that."  
"You gonna be sorry now." The pig reached a fisted hand back, getting ready for a knock out punch.

A dark voice echoed through the night air. "I am the terror that flaps in the night."  
The crow cursed. "Cutlet, you were supposed to be keeping a watch!"

"I am the funeral you just can't afford."  
Cutlet threw Launchpad at his partner in crime. The crow thrust his crowbar tight under the air ace's bill.

Darkwing Duck materialized directly in front of Launchpad and slammed his fist in the crow's face, making him drop his crowbar to grab his stinging beak. "I am Darkwing Duck." He glared. "You're under arrest Crowbar and Eugene Cutlet."

"Not bloody likely!" Cutlet took a swing at the caped Duck and Crowbar bolted down the street. Darkwing web-kicked Cutlet in the chest. The thug hit the wall and keeled over in pain.  
"Oops, sorry there." Darkwing muttered. "I didn't think it was that hard."

Launchpad advanced on the thug, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and snapping them on Cutlet. Launchpad knew that if Darkwing hadn't come, they would have flattened the air ace. "Thanks, DW."  
"We can always only try our hardest." Darkwing squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. The sound of a siren grew louder. "No one can expect anything more." Then he vanished into the night, leaving Launchpad with Cutlet.

* * *

Crowbar staggered breathlessly to a bus stop. An idea to catch the bus had driven him in this direction. "I've gotta get enough distance between me and that daft Duck." He looked around at the deserted stop. He glanced up the street, there were a dozen people waiting in the distance at the bus stop on the next corner.

He waited a minute, and then the bus came around the corner. Crowbar held up his hand under the light of the lamp post to hail the driver. The bus passed on by.

The light from the lamp above him went out, followed by the backing light behind the advertisement on the side of the bus shelter. The next lamp post went out, then the next, the neon signs, the shop front windows. For fifty metres the whole street was plunged into total darkness.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night." Crowbar spun around, wishing he hadn't dropped his trademark all-purpose utensil. He fisted his hands.  
"Come on out and I'll slam yah."

"I am the off ramp from the road of crime. I am ..." The instant the Duck materialized, Crowbar took a swing. Darkwing grabbed his fist before it even made contact. "This isn't like you, Crowbar. Where's your weapon?"  
"I dropped it." Crowbar cringed. "You're crushing my hand!" Darkwing loosened his hold and snapped wrist cuffs on Crowbar. Crowbar sighed in a marginal relief, rubbing his bruised fingers.

"Here's your ride, I believe." Crowbar glanced down the street as the police car turned the corner. The lights came back on in the street. He looked around him; Darkwing Duck was gone.

The cops stepped out of the car. "Crowbar. We're arresting you for attempted burglary on Mad Hatters Emporium." The first one took his elbow.  
"How'd you know I was here, then? Mad Hatter's is blocks away."  
The cops clicked their tongues. "You were caught fleeing the scene." The cops shoved him into the back seat, watching his head. He found himself sitting beside Cutlet.

The cops got back into the car. "Crazy criminals; they're always wanting to know how we find them."  
"Yeah, I dunno. Stupid question if you ask me." The officers laughed at Crowbar and criminals in general as they drove back to the station.

* * *

_An hour later at the police station..._

After the police processed them through the warden's office, the blues split the fearsome five into two and led them away to different cell blocks.

Megavolt and Quackerjack had a cell of their own. "Okay, in here you two. You can just behave yourselves now you're away from your other friends."

Megavolt sat down on the bunk, trying to piece together the thoughts in his head. What was going on with Darkwing? First he became a vampire and now this? This was just ... not in character. Megavolt recalled the way his nemesis had flinched when the media had crowded him. If electrifying him wasn't the answer, or vacuuming, could the solution be simple flash photography?

"Come on, Megs, are you going to sit there moping all night, or are we going to break outta here?"  
Megavolt sighed. "I'm not moping, for your information, I'm contemplating the situation."  
Quackerjack, demented toymaker and freelance chaos agent, found this idea humorous and broke into a peal of laughter. "With your shorted out brain?" He continued to laugh.

"Hey, quiet in there!" A familiar thick voice grunted from the next cell.  
"Yeah, s'the only time we get to sleep!" Another familiar voice piped up.

Megavolt remembered the two voices after a moment. "Oh, yeah? Why don't you come in here, and say that ... Cutlet?" Megavolt snarled. "If you wanna sleep, I can give you something that'll really knock you out ... Crowbar!" He clenched his teeth.

Negaduck had wasted the time he'd gone to so much effort to gain. In the end Darkwing Duck had done little more than his usual annoyingly successful magic act. All things considered for this evening, Megavolt was ready to resort to his fists.

He had a sudden feeling of awareness and looked back at Quackerjack who was gazing at him in wonder.  
"You'll take them down whether you're short-circuited or not?" Quackerjack grinned.  
Megavolt nodded seriously. Of all the indignity the world visited upon him in his life. With his fate laid out in front of him, he had one last thing to hold in himself. "I am Megavolt!" He thundered, a trace of a spark returning to his fingers.

"Alright! Geez! Aren't we stroppy tonight?" Crowbar snitted.  
"Why don't you guys just break out already?" Cutlet grumbled.  
Quackerjack giggled and shrugged at Megavolt. "What?"

Megavolt went for being earnest with his friend. "Okay; maybe I'm not thinking too clearly. So why don't you tell me? What's happened to Darkwing Duck?"  
"Nothing, electron brain, he's the one who got us locked up, remember?"  
"No, I meant ..." Megavolt rubbed his temples, realising he was trying to have a conversation about metaphysics with a post-destructionalist, while he himself was operating on a low power level. He slapped his forehead. "D'oh, let's just get out of here."  
"My thoughts exactly. But we have to go rescue Mr. Banana Brain while we're at it."  
Megavolt groaned. This was going to be a long break.

* * *

Megavolt stood up quietly, watching the corridor. The security guards passed by, and as they passed, he electro-magnetized the key ring and caught the set of keys in his fingers. With a soft jingle, he put his hand behind his back.

The guard turned back towards him. "You not making any trouble in there, are you?"  
"No, I think I've had enough humiliation for one night, thanks, Larry."  
"Very good."  
"Oi!" Crowbar squawked indignantly. "You kidding me, those guys in there won't shut up!" The guard turned, looking into Crowbar's cell.  
"Crowbar." The guard tsked. "I can only hope you have a long stint in lockup." He walked away.

"Yeah right; only if the charges stick. Stupid menace pops out of nowhere, how the heck did he get in front of me like that?" Crowbar grumbled.  
"It serves you right for leaving me behind." Cutlet snorted. "He was busy collaring me while you disappeared; I thought you'd gotten a clean break."

Megavolt unlocked his cell. He went and stood in front of the others' cell. "You're a pair of losers, and he's a vampire. You can't run, you can't hide. You can't get far enough away. I should know; he's duck tailed Steelbeak halfway across the planet. The only thing he'll ever run short of is patience. And if he does that, finally then you'll really believe what I'm telling you tonight."

Megavolt put his fingers around the bars, peering intently at his captive audience. "You'll feel a strangled sensation and your willpower will give out as you realise that you can't escape. You'll helplessly watch him coming closer. Now he's five feet away. You manage to take one small step back and that's when he snatches you up." He took a breath. "An impossible grip; you can't break free. Sheer strength and it's all around you, locking you in. You'll feel feathers brushing against you, a hot breath, followed by a sharp pain. There'll be a dull thumping in your head that increases as your body is drained of its energy." Megavolt let go of the cage's bars. "It's all over in seconds, he's full and you're finished. Pleasant dreams, guys."

Megavolt rejoined Quackerjack and they headed out of the ward.

* * *

"So ... you know those guys?"  
"They're regulars at the pub I go to." Megavolt sighed.  
"I always wonder why you go to that place." Quackerjack commented. "You're not that sort at all."

"What sort?" Megavolt stopped in the corridor, completely baffled by Quackerjack's analysis. If the warden chose to come down here, they'd have a fight on their hands. Not that it'd bother either of them.

"I just mean; I like you, Megs. You're not low-life riff raff like them."  
Megavolt smiled. "Thanks buddy." He looked away. "I go there because it reminds me that I can't ever go back to being Elmo Sputterspark."

"But you're the same person. You don't have a split personality. I should know because I have a split personality. You just have really bad mood swings."  
"Well, yeah, I hate it when I remember how easily someone destroyed my entire life. I try to not remember." Megavolt explained. "I'm Megavolt, because Elmo Sputterspark can't survive in a world like this." He sighed. "But eventually even Megavolt will succumb to the inevitable."

* * *

In silence they broke into the warden's office.

Quackerjack approached the guard on duty from behind and hit him over the head. The officer crumpled in his chair, and the duo went digging through the property room in peace.

"Maybe you're right, Megavolt." Quackerjack considered. "You can't be impervious to everything when you only have one personality. It just doesn't cover every situation."  
"You suggest I try to split myself?"  
"Take it from me! I totally recommend it!" He laughed. "Try being Elmo for a while."  
"What?" Megavolt grizzled negatively, "be weak and pathetic?"

"Wahoo!" Quackerjack squawked in joy at finding his other half. He pulled Mr. Banana Brain from out of the box. In that moment, Quackerjack forgot their conversation and just stood there, hugging his beloved puppet in complete happiness.

"Hmm ..." Megavolt considered Quackerjack's idea. He swung the half door open and Quackerjack followed after him. "I suppose I could find some uses for it."  
"What are you using?" Quackerjack started. "What are you talking about, buddy?"

Megavolt blinked. "I ... uh ... I forget." He rubbed his temple in confusion. ... "I need some juice." He decided and plugged into a nearby wall socket. It was a moment and he was feeling vastly better. He unplugged and headed towards the outer door.

* * *

The door erupted opened in front of him. "Where do you think you two are going?" The guards pointed their weapons at him and then on Quackerjack a step behind him.  
"Out like a light." Megavolt quipped in response and electro-magnetized the two guard's guns. They flew into his and Quackerjack's hands.

"Not again? Can't you just stay put for a change, Megavolt?"  
He threw the keys at Larry. "Well, we didn't let anyone else out today."  
"Thanks for the small mercy." The guards stepped helplessly aside and Megavolt and Quackerjack left, closing the door to the warden's office behind them.


	6. Camera Shots

**Chapter Five: Camera Shots**

* * *

_He felt a damp breath on his fur, a nervous spasm against a sharp pain, and then the plummeting power level. Warmth and feathers surrounded him..._

* * *

6:03 am Saturday morning...

_"This is Raul Rhode, reporting live at the St Canard High School auditorium!"_

Megavolt jolted awake, hearing the TV in the distance. He groaned; fancy being startled just by the harmless TV. "Ulti, what is it with you and the morning news?"

Ulti beeped from the other room.  
"You are intelligent, Ulti."  
Ulti beeped again.  
"Well, who am I to interfere with ambitions?" He yawned; Megavolt had spent a long night and felt every bit of it. "But I don't care myself; I just want to catch up on the sleep I've missed."

Ulti beeped.  
"You're beginning to sound like my mother." He drew the covers over his head, and then his cell phone rang. "Oh, no. That'll be her now." He cowered under the bed sheets.  
Ulti beeped.  
"I can't." Megavolt got out of bed and watched the phone ring out on the table. "I'll wait till her circuits cool off, and then I'll call her back." He sighed, and went to watch the weather forecast. "Rain." He whispered. He closed his eyes, trembling as the dream came to him again.

_The thrashing of the waves against the rocks, the whipping of wind..._

Ulti beeped.  
"Yes, I'm still going out this afternoon, I've got bills to pay, and thanks to Negaduck, now I really need this payout."  
Ulti beeped.  
"Questions! Why must you ask so many questions? You drive me mad I tell you, Ulti! And don't ... say it."  
Ulti was silent.

He turned away. "I can't stay inside for the rest of my life, anyway." He treaded across the room to the window. "There are things I haven't done with my life." He gazed out to the cityscape on the horizon. "And I'm running out of time. What do I want in my life?"

* * *

_6:03 am Saturday morning..._

"What are you watching, Gos?"

"You, dad."  
"Me, dad?" He sat down next to her.  
"Ugh, you should've posed a bit better." Drake flinched. Memories flitted back into his mind. "Hey! They were shooting their flash bulbs at me. It really ..." He flinched again. "I'm having trouble remembering what happened last night."  
"You got the Fearsome Five, dad." She pointed at the screen, as the officials took them into the police van.

"... I remember being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, and then it all sort of ..."  
"Dad!" She took his shoulders and shook him. "You gotta be more careful!" She hugged him tightly.  
"Yeah, yeah, I know."  
"You could easily have died."  
"Hey, no way, not me."  
She crossed her arms. "You don't remember?"  
He shook his head. "Little bits."  
"Well, can you remember everything since you woke up?"  
He thought about it. "Yes."  
"That's a relief." He petted her head. Gosalyn once again was mothering him, mirroring his own protective feelings towards her. He couldn't even argue, since his daughter was so perfectly genuine in her emotion.

He sighed and looked again towards the TV. It had been the perfect opportunity, he had been right in front of the camera, and he had hightailed! "So why can't I get my picture taken, I wonder?"  
"I bet your Vespers feel like their home was being invaded from the lights in their cameras. I mean, you wouldn't want Negaduck or somebody to come poking around here."

"No, I most certainly would not!" He grabbed her on the protective thought and sat her on his lap as the weather report came on.

"That doesn't look good for your match this afternoon." Drake watched the isometric predictions. "I hope it doesn't rain till afterwards. I want to see you get the chance to hit Duckburg out of the ballpark."  
"We'll bowl 'em flat, dad, don't you worry."

He chuckled, "that's my girl."

* * *

_6:03 am Saturday morning..._

Barry Gilmore watched the news reporters, going on about the success Darkwing Duck had in catching the Fearsome Five.  
"He doesn't like those cameras." He watched the Duck flinch on each flash. "Interesting."

_"And further updates on the investigation into the horrendous death of _Xo Technology _employee Jason Waterrat, the normally spotless company is issuing a full scale internal review on co-worker turned raving lunatic killer Barry Gilmore. The forensic investigators are saying the apparent cause of death is photonic bombardment. To all St Canard residents, we suggest to be very careful if you find a suspect with the following description ..."_

Barry twitched at the news report as it carried on. He glared at the TV and the thing melted on the spot. "I'll get those guys for calling me names." He frowned. "I use light energy." He sat down at his computer and opened up the Yellow pages directory. "No, Light Guy is taken, light bulb, no. Megawatt? No, that's a rock band ... Right. Photon Pig is me from now on. And, according to my calculations ..." He started madly typing away at the computer.

* * *

6:20 am Saturday morning...

Barry squealed: "Aha! I know the perfect weapon against Darkwing Duck!"

* * *

_6:15 am Saturday morning..._

Megavolt watched the waves out the window, considering the remains of his existence. Behind him the TV sound jumped as the news broadcast rewound.

_"This is Raul Rhode, reporting live at the St Canard High School auditorium!" _

Megavolt turned back to watch the report replay.

_"As you can see before you, Darkwing Duck has just pinned down these hardened criminals after a failed ..."_  
_"Wait a second!" Darkwing gritted at the camera._

Megavolt sighed. It was clear that Darkwing just liked arguing, irrespective of who it was with.

_"Can I just ask the audience something? What makes a criminal? Look at these guys. What happened to Megavolt? He was tormented and bullied. What happened to Bushroot? The exact same thing. Quackerjack? A result of long term rejection."_

Megavolt didn't hear his own reaction amidst the background noise.

_"My point is society. It's people that can make a difference. A kind hand to the down trodden." He gestured to Megavolt. "Before they turn to a life of crime."_

"That was my whole life." Megavolt sighed, looking at the screen. "Back up right to the beginning, please, Ulti." He watched the recording rewind.

_"And we cross over to our on-the-street news reporter in St Canard High's school gym." The presenter voiced over the hubbub so all that could be heard in the gym was noise._

"Pause it!" In the insert corner of the screen was Darkwing, with his cape drawn in front of him, the expression on his face said it all. "Flash bulbs and photography." Megavolt stared at the screen. "Increase the amplitude of the flash, and I'll have Duck toast, no aiming required." Megavolt had the answer he'd been looking for, for years. "Actually, toast might be too whole."  
Ulti beeped.  
"Of course you can disagree with me, Ulti." Megavolt went to his desktop computer. "Could you transfer the gym sequence to my computer screen? I'll run a spectral analysis to be sure."

He ran the program. "I'm right, Ulti." He reported. "All I have to do is increase the intensity. It's so simple." He sat back from the computer. "A child could build it. A toddler could aim it."

* * *

6:20 am Saturday morning...

The room was silent.

"I know how to kill Darkwing Duck!" Megavolt murmured in shock and continued to stare at the screen for a long time.

* * *

_6:20 am Saturday morning..._

Drake's ears pricked. "Uh, did you say something, Gos?"

"No, dad."  
"I could've sworn ..."  
"You're hearing things again. Nobody's calling you." She rested her head back against his chest.

"Hmm. I notice that you always say that."  
"Well, I figure that whoever it is, they're probably just out there vainly cussing at you."  
"Yeah, that makes sense." He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of peace with his daughter.

After a while he set her down beside him and stood up. He yawned.  
"Back to bed, dad?"  
"No, I'm thinking about breakfast."  
"Dad?"

He didn't answer and wandered into the kitchen. She frowned as her ears pricked, tuned into his voice rather than the TV commercials in front of her. "It'd be the very last mistake that demon would make." He said over the sound of rushing water. "To come in here and die."  
Gosalyn sighed. She hadn't meant to make her father hungry.

"You alright, sweetie?" He said, coming back into the room. "Are you going to come have some breakfast with me? You know you have to keep your strength up, champ." He grinned at her, making her smile back.  
"Sure, dad."

* * *

9:30 am Saturday morning...

J Gander Hooter watched the TV, his fingers on the remote.

_"Hey, hey hey!"_

The news presenter's voice had been wiped from the recording; the background noise clarified using S.H.U.S.H. technology and trusty lab specialists.

_Darkwing drew his cape in front of him, protecting himself from the camera flashes. "Cut that out!" He whirled around as the steady cam moved around to another angle._

The look on Darkwing's face was so tragic it still made Hooter's heart ache watching it the fifth time around.

_"Go away. I haven't done anything tonight that I haven't done countless times before."_

Hooter paused the recording, staring at the vigilante. He hadn't spoken properly with Darkwing since uncovering the fact that he'd somehow contracted vampirism. It'd only been a month or so, but Hooter had spent that time in an emotionally uptight condition. Although he daren't admit it to anyone especially Grizlykoff, the few words he and Darkwing had exchanged had left him extremely unnerved.

The reality of vampires was one thing. But it still seemed incredulous to Hooter that someone with so much spirit and agility would somehow wind up undead. A person like Darkwing would never let anyone get near enough to bite him.

"I'd need blood samples for a start, sir," the crisp feminine voice of his trusted top scientist came from across the table. "Even then, it'll take months, perhaps never."  
He sighed. "That type of expenditure can't be justified." Hooter looked at the screen again. He pressed play and then muted it. Hooter paused the playback near the end as Megavolt double-blinked.

Hooter sighed.

"I've been working on a formula, sir." Bellum said brightly. "But, since I have no vampires to test it on, I don't know if I've succeeded."  
"Before we call him in, I'd like to be briefed on this formula of yours, doctor Bellum."

She leaned forwards with that excited glint of intelligence that always had Hooter's rapt attention. "Vampires drink blood. I mean, Quandry left his victims bloodless. Agreed?"  
"You are making a statement of fact, doctor. Go on."  
"So, it would seem a necessary next step to create something to fill that need."

"Well, yes, but we still don't know why they drink blood. The compulsion is documented certainly, but is it a need? Or is it an insatiable craving like an addiction?" He shuddered. "We don't even know whether they're demons or just animals."

"I didn't think of it that way." She ruminated. "I proceeded on the basis of addressing a nutrient deficiency. Hematophagy is a biological known; like the bat variety, they require blood in their diet. So, why not create a compound that emulates the benefits? After all it's just protein and fatty acids when you come down to it."

"You believe you've invented a vampire health food ... a dietary replacement?"

"Yes, sir." She sat back in her chair. "Of course, I haven't had a chance to test it yet."

* * *

_Moral/Overview: Not everyone is out to get you. That is, of course, you can only hope they aren't._


	7. Baseball

**Chapter Six: Baseball**

* * *

_Saturday Afternoon..._

It was the champion baseball tournament against Duckburg and the stadium was half packed.

Drake watched from the stands, excited and cheering with Launchpad and the rest of the crowd. Then halftime came, and he looked up into the sky. Above the hovering advertisement zeppelins, the grey sky was gradually turning dark blue.

"Hey what'd'ya know, sometimes the weather man is right. Don't cha worry, DW, they won't call the game unless it actually does start raining."

"Oh, it'll rain. Unfortunately, it's not the getting wet I'm worried about." Drake hesitated, his fingers twitched. It was still daylight at the moment, and he couldn't risk losing the vampiresque mystique that he'd collected. It came in very handy. He stepped out of the tier and jumped down the steps. Then he hesitated; no, that plan wouldn't work either. He looked up into the sky again. They'd just think Drake Mallard was daft, as usual.

He scanned the area using sonar. Drake needed some ... diversionary ... Fire alarm! Yes! Four minutes for that plan, he had five minutes on hand. He looked up into the sky. The clouds would surely bring enough darkness in a minute. He ducked into the lockers to shift clothes without being seen.

He raced to the nearby fire alarm and smashed it with the fire extinguisher. The alarm went off, and he waited three minutes in shadow before approaching the stadium green.

* * *

"... All my fun is spoilt." The villain Quackerjack landed on the green just as the last of the crowd disappeared through the fire exits.  
"You're not doing anyone any harm tonight, Quackers."

"It's still daytime." Quackerjack checked his watch. The lightning flashed and thunder crashed, echoing loudly through the stadium. The overhead lights had already come on.  
"Time flies when you're having fun." Darkwing jested. Then he sprayed Quackerjack and his flying robot with the fire extinguisher before he could even set his toy teeth on Darkwing.

"Party favourites." Darkwing took out the toy teeth, swinging the extinguisher.  
"Try parting favourites!" With the crime fighter temporarily distracted, Quackerjack raced across to the Public Announcer's booth.

Darkwing shrugged as he put the bottle down, and followed after him. By now, the police and fire department were lining up outside, ready to venture in.

* * *

Darkwing pounced on Quackerjack in the PA booth and grabbed his wrists.

"And so the evil undead once again ..."  
Darkwing's eyes watered, looking around for the offensive speaker. "What?" He quacked. He dropped his hold on Quackerjack and held up the wrist cuffs he had been about to fasten. "If that were true, Raul Rhode, why would I be using these?"

"Darkwing Duck!"  
He frowned at the compare cringing nearby. "Doesn't anybody know what to do when they hear a fire alarm? What's the matter?"  
"He's getting away."  
"Nah, that's not likely with half the police and the fire department out there casing the green right now."

He rounded on Raul Rhode the news reporter again. "That is a singularly most insulting remark." He turned away, shoving the cuffs back into his breast pocket. "I'd expect it from criminals. I just saved this entire stadium of families from being demolished by Quackerjack's latest jumbo destructo-toy." He pointed to the green where the transformer robot was parked, gears stuck in CO2 foam.

He turned his back on the news reporter, keeping his careful attention on him, just in case Raul decided to act on a personal vendetta against him. Darkwing shut the door behind him. In the empty corridor he shifted clothes and then went to find Gosalyn.

* * *

Quackerjack trembled, hiding besieged in his broken robot. The ground was covered in police officers, and here he was, completely trapped. Another crack of thunder and he trembled.

A clang as something dropped onto the roof. "Quackerjack!" He opened up the roof hatch and looked up.  
"Megavolt!" Quackerjack laughed in relief and climbed up the rope ladder to Megavolt's zeppelin.

He sat down on the floor of the zeppelin as Megavolt took the sky machine up and away from the stadium.  
"What brings you here?"  
"Advertisement commissions." Megavolt answered. "But that's not important; I want to ask a favour."  
"Anything, Megsy buddy."

"I want to borrow your umbrella for a few weeks."  
Quackerjack looked out the window as it began to rain heavily. "Sure, I understand, you don't want to get wet. You can drop me off at my place and I'll get it for you."  
Megavolt smiled at him. "Thanks, Quackers." He said in an unusually quiet voice.

* * *

They left the stadium behind. "So, how about breaking the others out tomorrow?"

"I think ..." Megavolt considered the steering wheel in his hands. "Liquidator will have escaped already."  
"Well, yeah, but there's Bushy ..."  
"So why wait?" Megavolt spun the steering wheel.

"Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today!" Quackerjack chortled in approval, scrambling back to a stand as the ship veered.  
"Precisely." Megavolt headed to the penitentiary.

* * *

He hovered the zeppelin over the large prismatic prison, angling it to face the unfriendly cell block windows. Sirens and klaxons called out from below, acknowledging their presence.

"Oh, I love a party!" Quackerjack whooped. "What's the plan?"  
Megavolt dug into the glove compartment. "Courtesy of the Duck Knight himself." Megavolt chuckled, holding a grapple attached to a ream of rope.

"Yeah, but the bars are ..."  
"Bushroot can fit through bars. And this way I won't get rained on." He opened the window, magnetized the grapple and sent it flying to the bars of Bushroot's cell. The slim-line plant-duck slipped easily through the bars and twined himself to the rope. He freed the grapple letting him swing and Megavolt pulled the zeppelin high up out of the firing range of the guards.

Quackerjack pulled at the rope and Bushroot climbed inside.

* * *

"What about Negaduck?" Bushroot asked, careful to keep his dripping in one place.

"Him? He's so-oo clever." Megavolt snorted, gripping the wheel. "He doesn't need our help."  
"But ..."  
"He'll get himself free. Don't you remember the last time Darkwing Duck caught the rest of us? Negaduck left us in the lurch."  
"Yeah, but ..."  
"So, I don't have time to waste on that demented duck, Bushy. I've got other things I want to do with my life."

Megavolt brought the sky ship to a hover over Quackerjack's caravan.

The toymaker threw down the end of the zeppelin's rope ladder and in a few moments he came back up with his bright red and blue umbrella.  
"Thanks, Quackers." Quackerjack propped it up against the wall so it could dry. "Go on, go have dinner." Megavolt smiled at Quackerjack.  
"I'll see you around, buddy!" Quackerjack grinned back and disappeared back down.

* * *

Megavolt turned the zeppelin around, aiming for Bushroot's home.

"I dunno what's been eating you, Megavolt. Do you want to talk about it? It's that dream potion, isn't it? What did you dream about?"

Megavolt sighed. "Bushroot, you don't know how lucky you are."  
"Lucky? I'm a walking salad bar. All I have in my life is you guys. And you're leaving Negaduck in the slammer. Which I don't think is a really nice thing to do. But I guess he's hasn't been very nice to you either."

Megavolt set the controls to automatic. "Look at me, Bushroot." He came across and fisted his gloved hand around the other's vine as he spoke. "If you keep trying, one day one of your experiments will work. Plant-duck or duck or plant. You have a hope that I can never have."

"I didn't think it bothered you." Bushroot quivered. "I'm so sorry. You've never mentioned it before."  
Megavolt stepped back. "Bothered me? Bothered me?" Megavolt laughed hysterically.

"I was wrecked when it happened! You sprang right back, Bushy, but not me. I sat upstairs in my bedroom for days, all alone thinking how my life had ended. Paper was flying at me everywhere ... ma had to take the posters off my walls. She took all my textbooks out of the room and I ..." Megavolt sobbed.

"You're one up on me." The electric rodent said huskily after a time. I've tried not thinking about it, but that stupid dream just dredged it all up again."

"What the heck was in that dream, Megs? You can tell me." Megavolt hung his head, his voice caught in the lump in his throat.

He turned back to the steering wheel, looking out on the changing view of the city. "Negaduck froze. I'm still having trouble believing it and I was watching him."

"He didn't want to get eaten. I associate with that." Bushroot defended.  
"But I keep telling everybody that you can't run. You can't hide. Sure, I don't want to get eaten either. Who does?" Megavolt sighed. "Here's your greenhouse."

"Thanks." Bushroot grabbed the grappling hook and attached it to the stairwell. "How'd you get this?"  
"Oh, I can't remember. Darkwing left it behind one time."

Bushroot opened the door, holding onto the rope.  
"I'm not going out with a whimper, Bushroot. I refuse to die without a fight."  
"I understand, Megsy." Bushroot gazed at him encouragingly. "Good luck."

The hybrid looked down, contemplating his journey to the ground below and, holding onto the rope, he jumped out.


	8. Substitution

_A/N: Not perfect sorry, but I'm overdone tinkering with this chapter._

**Substitution**

* * *

_Saturday Early Evening..._

Darkwing was still grizzling as he sat, flicking observation channels, munching on a carrot. He looked at the bowl of fruit and vegetables in his hands and found that he'd already demolished half of the selection. He took out another carrot piece and crunched into it.

The screen bleeped and he jumped in surprise, flicking the channel over to videophone without even thinking about the implications.

"Darkwing?"  
He snatched the large bowl out of sight onto the console behind him and sat to attention. "Director Hooter. I wasn't expecting a call from you." Not after he'd dodged the last close one; Darkwing cringed. The mirror meant that Hooter didn't trust him anymore. Darkwing assumed that now he was a vampire, he wouldn't be getting any more contracts out of J Gander Hooter.

"I'd like you to come in to S.H.U.S.H. headquarters."  
Darkwing considered what his senses were telling him. Not much. J Gander Hooter always had a very good guard up around his mental state, but that was unavoidable. He needed it to be a successful director. In short, Darkwing didn't know what to expect out of this. He looked down at the carrot fisted in his hand.

"Sure, give me ten minutes." He turned off the channel, and shoved the rest of the carrot in his mouth with a satisfying crunch. He reached back for the bowl, and grabbed another apple before jumping down to the floor below.

"Launchpad, I really could use your help on this one!"

* * *

Hooter was pacing Bellum's laboratory, reciting his observations on the vampires that they'd so far been in contact with.

"So, the first instance we encounter vampires is after thwarting an amateur's attempt to cover evidence."  
"Yes, sir. One would liken a vampire's stomach to a permanently empty gas tank." She tapped her beak in thought. "I wonder how he managed to stop at only nine."  
"Dear heavens, doctor Bellum!"

Hooter took a breath, regaining his composure. "So the next instance we have a crime scene without any attempt to conceal evidence."  
"And Darkwing then successfully stops Quandry. That is to say the vampire responsible."  
"And in doing so, Darkwing leaves his own trail of destruction behind him. A bag of dust and a burnt, steaming wreckage in the middle of the desert."  
"Sir! The explosives analysis we did clearly indicated it was a preset time delay detonation device."

"Doctor Bellum. The point that I am making here is that so far, where ever there has been evidence of vampires there has also been death and destruction."  
"Yes indeed, sir, that sort of evidence is hard to ignore."  
Hooter sighed in relief. "I'm glad I'm getting through to you, because it's a major personal risk inviting a vampire in for a ... a chat. I need you to be on your guard, or we could both end up being fuel for that ... empty gas tank."  
"Uh ... Yes, sir." Bellum turned away from him, gazing at the doorway.

"So," Hooter continued, "what we need to do is keep this short and to the point. You offer him the formula, and hopefully he takes to it."  
"Oh, I can't wait for that, sir." She turned back, smiling at him.

* * *

The storm continued to rage outside the windows of the old, low set building of St Canard's S.H.U.S.H. headquarters.

"This is exciting!" Doctor Sara Bellum went to the counter and picked up her formula. "I finally get to see if this works."  
The liquid was purple and reminded Hooter of mouthwash. It was certainly unattractive to him, but then, he wasn't the vampire; Darkwing Duck was.

"Bellum, how confident are you that it'll ..." He stopped talking when, with a tentative knock on the open doorframe, Darkwing and Launchpad appeared undramatically in the doorway. Hooter cleared his throat. "Ah, Darkwing Duck."

"Are we early?"  
"Yeah, we can come back later." Launchpad added.  
"No, not at all." Bellum put down the formula and crossed the room. Without any ado she cheerily ushered them both in and closed the door behind them.

* * *

"We want to help you with your unfortunate ... circumstances." Hooter stated his objectives clearly.  
"You mean being a vampire." Darkwing's voice was sullen. "You might not believe me, but I have it in hand."  
There was silence in the room as Hooter cast his mind for a way to get Darkwing to explain what 'in hand' entailed.

It occurred to Hooter that Darkwing was staying very near to his pilot companion. By this, Hooter could tell the boy was just as likely to high tail as he was to answer another question. It shocked Hooter to even come to such a conclusion. Before all this, Darkwing had always been so obviously steadfast and sure of himself that Hooter could almost recite their next meeting before they had it.

Bellum interrupted his thoughts. "What about light rays? UV, you don't seem to like that. May I?" She grabbed at Darkwing, not waiting for a response, and plucked a feather from the vigilante's hand before he could object.  
"Ow!" Darkwing grabbed his hand in shock.  
"Doctor Bellum ...!"  
"Yes, sir?"

Hooter felt a tension headache threatening, but he couldn't finish the sentence and ended up just standing there, fretting. Bellum might as well have struck a match in an explosives closet or walked through a mine field. He sincerely wondered what channel the doctor had been tuned to while he'd been discussing the perils of having a vampire in the room with them.

Darkwing broke the silence with a pained voice. "Remember what I was telling you about obsessive compulsive reactions, Launchpad?"  
"Sure, DW."  
"Well, Doctor Bellum is a perfect example."  
Bellum huffed at the rebuke and strode off.

Darkwing called out after her. "You're looking for an immune dysfunction, Bellum. A spectrum result is just a symptom."  
The door to the interior lab closed.  
'An immune dysfunction?' Hooter mentally repeated. Darkwing always made light of dramatic issues, whether he thought them important or not. "That would be a rather ... detrimental symptom if it kills you."  
Without a comment, Darkwing looked at Hooter, acknowledging his words before his gaze drifted back to the interior lab's door.

Hooter wasn't sure what to say now that Bellum had disrupted their plan. Had the wick already been lit? It was impossible to know what to expect. No S.H.U.S.H. procedure existed on how to deal with a vampire, so Grizlykoff was no use for this meeting. Of all the people that Hooter had ever encountered over the years, there was only one person that could have helped him in this situation.

It was regretful circumstances indeed, because he was already in the room with him.

* * *

Doctor Sara Bellum returned a minute later with an annoyed look on her face. The feather was still intact between her fingers. Hooter blinked at the feather in surprise. Sara was usually good at blowing things up once she had her mind set to it, and often when she didn't have her mind set to it.

"I explained it to you." Darkwing said quietly.  
"Yeh don't like flash lights, though." Launchpad volunteered thoughtfully.  
"I prefer the dark."  
"That would suggest a high intensity burst." Bellum reviewed the feather in her fingers. "Well, you won't encounter much in the way of that."

Hooter watched the feather disintegrate in Bellum's fingers as she held it out for Darkwing.  
"Gee, thanks." Darkwing grumbled.  
"Oh, dear me!" Bellum said as they all watched the tiny cloud of dust settle on the linoleum.  
"I think I'll have to grow a new one; that one's become somewhat detached from my person."

"I'm glad that wasn't your head. My goodness, it wouldn't be very good if you lost that!" Why was there shock in Bellum's voice? Hooter didn't know.  
"Or my heart." Darkwing added, deadpan. "I wouldn't be any good without a heart." Then he turned his gaze on Hooter. "Don't you agree, Director?"

* * *

Hooter had to rethink the question that Darkwing was asking him. It was about faith and trust. Hooter was mortified; he was so preoccupied with vampires that he hadn't taken the moment to recognise the person standing there opposite him.

The high voltage personality that the director had come to expect of Darkwing Duck was hidden behind an overwhelming wall of distrust and defensiveness.  
"You are indefatigably stubborn, Darkwing. Did it ever occur to you that you do not have to be alone? That it might be easier with help?"  
Darkwing turned to review Launchpad standing close behind him before he turned back to Hooter. "I'm listening, sir."

Hooter was overwhelmed again. That simple, mute action told him that Darkwing was also telepathic. It begged the question of exactly how much support Launchpad was in fact giving the vampire. And the ability for telepathy posed bigger questions. If Darkwing was reading Launchpad, how was he at reading Hooter himself? Could he read his enemies as easily as he could Launchpad? What about other vampires? Listening indeed!

* * *

"Well, now that we are on that subject, I've been working on this formula." Bellum went to the sideboard and handed Darkwing a vial.

Darkwing reviewed the purple concoction in his hands with a look of disapproval.  
"It's a substitution formula." While it was in his grip, she removed the lid from it. Once again, Hooter just barely found the discipline to contain himself. Bellum seemed completely blasé with the idea that Darkwing was a vampire, and at any moment a killer. Trust, but surely misplaced.

"Then it's Night Shade?" Launchpad spoke up. "That other stuff you had wasn't purple, DW."  
"I don't know what it is, LP. But it doesn't smell like Night Shade, and it sure isn't anything like Helga's."  
"It's a dietary substitution. You're supposed to drink it."  
"Gee, I uh ..." Darkwing struggled to find the correct apologetic phrase. "Thanks, but, uh ... I'm fine with substitutions at the moment." He handed the formula back to her.

"Well!" Bellum had a look of high irritation on her face.  
"Darkwing!" Hooter was beside himself. "Don't you think it might be a tad ... conflicting in interest?"

* * *

"Conflicting?" Darkwing blinked. "I don't follow you, chief."

"You want to protect the citizens of St Canard." Bellum explained in her eternally crisp voice. "And a vampire is inclined to eat the citizens."  
Now Hooter really could have had kittens. Did Bellum have no idea she was in a room with that lion she was only just describing?  
"Oh! I see. Sheesh, what a night this is shaping out to be. Launchpad, I just do not get it."

"We're trying to help you. This formula should help curb your appetite. This way you won't need to drink blood."  
"Helga's mix does the same thing, and you don't see me buying that stuff. I mean ..."  
Hooter felt a great pit of doom in his stomach from this revelation. He refrained from keeling over.  
"Marvelous; he's not even interested." Bellum remarked, her own turn of phrase to Hooter's thoughts.  
"Let me explain, please!" Darkwing exclaimed in a harried voice. "I can't fight crime on a full stomach. I simply can't."

Darkwing sighed. "My whole brain is geared on predator instincts. Remove hunger, and half the brain shuts down for a siesta. Hundreds of people could have been hurt this afternoon. Darkwing Duck has to stay alert."

Darkwing moved away across the room, opening the door. He hesitated in the doorway, turning back to face them. "I can't afford the luxury you're offering, but I am grateful. Thank you for your effort." He left the room.

* * *

Hooter was both relieved it was over and yet worried at this sudden walk out.

Bellum looked at the vial. "So much for testing it."  
"I'd like to take it, doctor." Launchpad said, coming forwards. "After all, yeh never know what'll happen tomorrow."  
She gladly handed him the vial. "Let me know how it goes if you do chance to use it, Launchpad."  
He nodded, and then exited too.

"Doctor Bellum ..." Hooter took a breath, looking for his patience. "Were you not listening to a word I was saying?"  
"I'm sorry, sir. I did get a bit excited. He is my first vampire, after all." She moved to the middle of the room and knelt down. The scientist pulled an empty evidence packet from her pocket and collected up the tiny patch of dust. "Think of this! Why does this happen? It has to have a biological basis, the ..."

"Not now, Doctor!" Hooter begged. "I've lost an agent."  
She held the dust packet up to the light, squinting, oblivious to all but her own musings. "... I wonder if I'll find any difference to Quandry's dust, given ..."

"Doctor Bellum!" Hooter glared at her. She lowered her hand and faced him.  
To his great relief, her face finally took a more serious expression. "I don't think he's lost, sir. So he drinks a little bit of blood. He still saves people's lives."

"He prefers blood over your substitution formula. That's ..."  
"That's not strictly true, sir. He merely said he preferred to be hungry. Oh, this is thrilling!"  
For some people it was stuffed toys, for others it was comic books, but Sara Bellum's hobby was data collection. "Carry on, Doctor." Hooter said, still feeling morose as he reached the door.

"He still saves people, sir." Bellum repeated as he twisted the knob. "Biological differential agreed, but he still has the same spirit. Darkwing has to be out there, rescuing people, because he can and because he cares. However it may appear, he means well."  
Hooter turned back to Bellum in surprise. "That's what I told you before I first introduced you two."  
She pushed her glasses back up her beak. "Oh, now isn't that just peculiar?"

* * *

She smiled at him. "Have a good night, sir."  
He hesitated. "Sara ..." Hooter checked his watch. "It's not safe to go walking this late at night. Let me give you a lift home."  
"Thank you, sir. That's very kind." She picked up her handbag and followed him out.


	9. Light Magnification

_A/N: I am the terror that stalks the night. I don't need any more warning labels than that. I am Dark Duck!_

**

* * *

**

**The Light Magnification Weapon**

* * *

The castle was beautiful, built into the cliff face and it looked out on the wilderness of the sea.

"Felicia Princeton." The Master turned around from the arch windows, her cape swirled around. The look on her face was severe.  
"Yes, Master?"  
The black haired vampire's eyes softened and she held out her hands imploringly. "I honestly don't know whose side you're on. Can't you make up your mind?"  
"Hey, I'm versatile, what can I say?" Felicia grinned weakly.

The master growled back at her and Felicia let her face go neutral again. "He wouldn't let me go, what was I supposed to do? You know how they get when they can't have what they want."  
"Which 'they' are you talking about?" Malduck snorted, sitting down on her chair.  
"Actually that's a pretty valid question ..."  
"Enough!" Malduck held up her hand, demanding an end to the trivialities.

"Felicia, a few days ago you killed a vampire, do you admit that?"

"Yes, obviously."  
"What is your judgment of people that go around killing all the time?"  
"I don't kill people all the time, only the ones that need to be stopped."  
"You're not a peacekeeper, Felicia, you follow no structure, no regiment, and you have no bias between species."  
"I find that remark offensive! Vampires are no different from any other species!" Felicia growled.

"And that is my point." Malduck sighed.

"Bring Mike in, Kimberly."  
The door opened and Kimberly walked in with a fox. He got onto his knees. "Master."  
"What's he done?" Felicia hesitated her question as she looked at the fox.  
"Please wait outside, Kimberly." Kimberly went out, closing the door quietly behind her.

The master gazed at Kimberly's friend and then returned to look at Felicia. "It is known that when you bite into them, you can taste everything they've done and everything that they've suffered. Do you find this true, Felicia?"  
"Yes."  
"Good." Malduck sat back on her chair. "Perhaps you'll like the taste of this one better."  
"Master-"  
"You've broken the rules, Felicia! I don't care how legitimate your reasoning was. Since you like making choices, Felicia, here's another one for you."  
"Master?" Felicia opened her eyes wide in horror.

"Win or lose. Dead or undead."  
Reluctantly, Felicia moved towards Mike. The fear in him was incredible. Felicia looked over at Malduck, sitting forward, intently watching from her chair. "Master, I ..." Felicia caught her breath. "There's nothing evil in him." She whispered.  
"This is your task." Malduck reiterated. "It is your punishment; your lesson."  
"O-okay." Felicia shook with her nerves and forced herself to obey the order. Felicia took him in her arms and sank her teeth into his neck. She drank down, and when she raised her head, he sank listless in her arms.

Malduck stood up. "Kimberly, take him."

"Oh, Mike."  
Felicia watched Kimberly approach and take him from her. The woman had tears in her eyes. She picked him up and carried him out of the room without even a glance to Felicia. Felicia looked up at Malduck. "Why'd you make me do that?" She quacked.  
"I made you do this because you have to learn, Felicia!" Malduck exclaimed. "It's time you take responsibility, and I can't think of a better way to do it."  
Felicia collapsed to her knees. "That was awful!" She sobbed. "Why didn't you just stake me? I thought that was what you were going to do when they dragged me here. Isn't that what happens under martial law?"

"That is not the appropriate punishment for a person who slays vampires. I thought you of all people would know that."

Felicia averted her eyes, her tears dried up as her sense of outrage returned. "Ducker's attacked several times since that punishment was carried, Master. My mother is still not safe."  
"Do you think I was not clear enough in defining it as a punishment for attacking a non-hostile vampire?"  
"I don't know, but I don't think he blames my mother for the punishment. It's just more the fact that he knows she's there as to why he keeps coming around."

"Well, Felicia, it seems to me you're in the same position that he is. Neither of you have much to lose and both of you are remorseless killers."  
"I know what I'm doing!" Felicia sobbed. "I always taste them to know." She lowered her eyes to the floor. "They're never been innocent ..." She gulped. "Until Mike ..."

* * *

Malduck straightened, stood up and went to the windows. "Darkwing Duck!" She bellowed into the air. "You're going to get yourself killed!" A moment later she folded her arms, grunting in displeasure and turned back from the windows.

" 'Yeah, I know'?" She sighed, rubbing her face. "And that's all he has to say for himself."  
"Master? Can I do something?"  
Malduck looked up. "You're not going anywhere right now, Felicia. He may be inclined to let himself die in the line of duty but at least he follows the rules of the Mastership. You, on the other hand are staying right here until you learn what that means."

"But surely someone can help him?"  
Malduck rubbed her face again and didn't answer. "I keep losing people." She sighed. "Now I need a new peacekeeper."

* * *

Drake turned from the lounge room back to Launchpad as he appeared out of the trap door via the blue armchairs.

"DW, can't we do something to stop it from happening?"  
"Not this time, LP."  
"That isn't like you, you never give up. You always find a way."  
"I never said I was giving up!" Drake remarked in surprise.

"What about taking a holiday?"  
"You know very well that I can't do that!" Drake gritted quietly at his friend, frowning in disapproval. "Let's just not talk about this right now, huh?"

Launchpad followed his friend into the kitchen and put the purple formula on the table.  
"Good morning, dad!" Gosalyn came from upstairs. She was beaming and brimming with energy. "Hi, Launchpad." She gave Drake a hug before racing around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready, assembling a fruit and vegetable assortment on the sideboard. Drake took out the milk from the fridge and put it on the table next to Bellum's formula before reaching into the cupboard and pulling down the cereal box and a bowl.

"What's that stuff, Launchpad?" Gosalyn asked as she began working to load up the blender.  
"It's Bellum's substitution formula."  
Gosalyn dropped in the dissected fruit and turned to review the formula properly. "Substitute ..." She looked at her dad. "But that's not the point, is it dad? You said that 'hungry' is just a normal thing. I mean ..." She considered him, "you're healthy and you don't actually need blood." She picked up the formula and put it in the pantry cupboard. "If it was that serious, it'd be really good to have, I'm sure." She came back to the blender.

Launchpad looked pointedly over the table at Drake. "Gee, I don't like the idea of things getting 'that serious', DW."  
Drake shrugged. "Sleep well, Launchpad."  
Launchpad yawned. "Yep, you have a good Sunday, guys."  
"Goodnight, Launchpad!" Gosalyn smiled at him, before turning around and hitting the button on the blender.

* * *

It was yet another peaceful Sunday morning walk with Gosalyn. But now Drake was done. He yawned as they walked back past the mailbox.

"Oh, hello, Drake." Binkie Muddlefoot waved at him as she picked up the Sunday newspaper.  
"You're up early, Binkie, is everything alright?"  
"Oh, my, yes." She smiled at him. "Tank and Honker's grandparents are coming for a visit today."  
"Oh, that'll be nice for you." Drake smiled then suppressed a yawn. "Bedtime for me, though."

"Doesn't that place you work at give you a night off, Drake?" Binkie tsked. "I would really think of finding another job."  
"He's just dedicated, Mrs. Muddlefoot. He sometimes takes a night off."  
"Well, it's a wonder you don't get sick, Drake. Everyone needs a break from their work every so often, or that's what happens."  
Gosalyn took the keys from Drake's hand.

Drake looked at Binkie. "I'll give serious consideration to it, Binkie. Enjoy the visit today." Gosalyn unlocked the door and watched him impatiently from the porch.  
"Oh, yes, thank you, Drake. Good ... night ... er good day." Mrs. Muddlefoot walked back inside and Drake walked back to his door as well.

"Come on, dad, bedtime." She pointed the Sunday mail at him and then at the open door.  
"Young lady!" He shook his head, too tired to argue.

* * *

Photon Pig. He repeated his new name, getting used to the idea. Sunday, nothing was open. Securely locked away in the safes were all the diamonds, but at least nobody would disturb him for a while as he retrieved them.

In order to finish constructing the weapon he needed a diamond to focus the light through. He approached the next jewellery store. An even bigger diamond would finish the larger weapon he was building.

He concentrated on the metal shutters, and in a moment, the anti burglary screen had melted into a puddle on the ground. "Too easy." He strolled into the store, melting the burglar detector near the roof just as it went off.

* * *

Early Sunday Evening...

Morgana gazed at her distracted boyfriend across the picnic table in the graveyard. "Dark, what is the matter?"

Darkwing turned back to her, blinking back into focus. "Oh, I'm sorry, Morgana." He gazed at her, "will you take care of Gosalyn for me? She trusts you and I know you can be more authoritative with her if you have to be."  
Morgana was startled. "Why ... where are you going?"  
"Nowhere." He got up out of his seat.  
"Dark!" Morgana stood up as well. "I think I deserve a better explanation than that."  
"I'm going Nowhere, Morgana. There's no more I can tell you than that." He repeated.

"I love you, Morgana Macawber." He took her solidly into his arms, looking down into her eyes and kissed her for a long quiet moment. Then he let her up with a contented sigh.  
"Oh, Dark."  
"I have to go; Launchpad's calling for me. Take care, Morg."

* * *

The crime scene was obvious and unappealing. Darkwing Duck paced around, looking over the puddle of metal and glass on the ground.

"Hmmm, he did this before he stole the rocks." Darkwing hesitated, acknowledging what he'd just said. "Uh, okay ..." he gulped, loosening his collar.  
"What d'ya suppose Barry Gilmore wants with diamonds, DW? The usual?"  
"Oh, no. It's not because they're expensive, Launchpad. It's because he's not powerful enough yet and diamonds have the highest melting point."

" 'Not powerful enough'? You're joking, right?" Launchpad chuckled nervously, staring at the melted destruction in front of them.  
"Unfortunately, no, I'm not joking." Darkwing continued to stare at the puddle as well. "It's a bit cold out tonight, don't you think, LP?"

"Darkwing Duck," the investigative officer at the scene turned to him, "did you actually want to go in?"  
"We know that only Barry Gilmore could've done this. Did he take the diamonds and leave everything else, by any chance?"  
"Yes. The largest are gone."  
"So that means Barry Gilmore's making a magnification weapon to increase the range and intensity of the damage that he causes." Darkwing turned away.

"LP, we need to split up." He gazed at Launchpad for a moment.  
"Sure, but what can I do, DW? Gilmore'd fry anyone on sight."  
"There's no time to explain here, Launchpad. Come on. Crowbar's already left the Mad Hatter's Emporium. Meet me there."

* * *

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."

Crowbar squawked, jumping. He dropped his trademark tool. He nearly dropped the sack of pilfered items slung over his shoulder as well.

"I am the alarm clock that wakes you before you can finish your really good dream. I am Darkwing Duck!" The Duck Knight announced, appearing in front of him.

"Curse you, Darkwing Duck. Why can't you just go away? Permanent like?"

Crowbar turned to run but crashed into Darkwing Duck. "Oi! How'd you get in front of me?"  
"Because I'm made of air. I can always get in front of you." Crowbar turned his head as a police car drove up to the curb. Crowbar continued to curse as the blues got out and put him into the back of the car along with the sack of items.  
"Thanks, Darkwing Duck." The police officers smiled at him, before getting back into the car and taking off.

Darkwing stood there staring after them for a long moment. "You're always welcome." He shivered, and turned into a bat, flapping up into night sky.

* * *

Darkwing approached a skyscraper and located an open window. The vigilante vampire changed into shadow and drifted through the random apartment, slipping across the floor past the residents and to their front door.

He hit the draft guard on the door and backed off, reviewed the door again and slipped through the crack at the top of the door. He continued up the corridor and materialised in front of another doorway.

He stared at the door, listening as the resident put his finishing touches on his weapon of destruction.  
"Now, all I have to do is the same thing to the doomsday device." Barry said excitedly.  
'Not a chance!' Darkwing Duck glared at the door, clenching his fists. He relaxed himself and knocked politely.

"Who's that?" Barry called out.  
Darkwing grinned and knocked on the door again, before pulling out a refolded newspaper and putting it down on the floor in front of the door.  
On the page on top was a large heading that read:

**'Autumn Gala Charity Ball Tonight.'**

Darkwing translocated away just as the door opened.

* * *

Back at the Mad Hatter's Emporium, Darkwing reappeared. He picked up the crowbar from off the ground and then gazed up the street, waiting as Launchpad was just catching up with the rat-catcher. He closed his eyes, tears falling loose. 'I love you, Gosalyn. My brave little girl. Whatever else you may think about me, have no doubt of that.'

Launchpad pulled up. "DW, are you sure we can't find a better way?"  
Darkwing opened his eyes and didn't answer. "Here, Launchpad; you'll need this." He got into the sidecar and Launchpad continued up the road, back to the building Darkwing had just left.

"DW, we gotta talk about this. There'll be at least a hundred people at the season end charity ball."

"There are actually a hundred and twenty one with the catering staff and reporters." Darkwing corrected grimly. "But that's a hundred and twenty one people versus a hundred thousand people. I have to make that choice, Launchpad, because we don't have time to find a safer diversion. Once Gilmore's finished that weapon, we won't have a chance at stopping him."

Launchpad hesitated. "You think he'll take the bait?"  
"He already has."

* * *

Rich velvety red curtains draped the walls, hiding the fact that they were really in a basic partitioned function room. The tables also had lavish decorations. Everyone here was celebrating the start of autumn and to donate large amounts of money to charity.

That was apart from the organisers and the reporters, of course.  
"Tom Lockjaw!"  
Tom looked up from his seat with his silver screen smile. "Hi Raul. Are you working?"  
"Actually I am. How'd you get the chair?"  
Tom coughed politely and took the arm of the woman next to him. "I have the studio job. And I have it because I'm good at it."  
"How'd you do, Mrs. Lockjaw?" Raul nodded at the woman. "I'd better get my story." He mumbled a goodbye and headed across the room.

* * *

"A toast to this fair city of St Canard!"  
Around the room came a cheer of agreement and the tinkling of crystal glasses.  
"Yes, why don't we toast the city? What an excellent idea!" Someone large stepped in through the doorway. He glared at all the celebrities. "I'm Photon Pig. And I'm here to heat your party up!"  
A woman screamed, and everybody began running for the exits.  
"This is Raul Rhode, live at the season ball, where Photon Pig has just-"

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."

Photon Pig pulled the gun out of its holster at his side. "Here, Duck, Duck, Duck." He muttered quietly, turning slowly around in a circle, looking for the smoke cloud.

"I am an idea that outlives reality."

"Where ..." Photon Pig blinked, realising that the room was now empty of the celebrities he'd intended to fry wholesale. "Oh, your little diversion won't save them for long, you know. I've got bigger things in store." He patted the weapon in his hands. "Guess what? This isn't my only gun."

* * *

Launchpad levered the crowbar in between the door jamb, and pried the door open. He stepped inside, looking around. He crossed the wooden floorboards. No, not the computer ... He moved out of the lounge area and went into the dining area. He fisted the crowbar on the sight of the large weapon looking device sitting there on the table. "Alright! Time for this baby to crash land."

* * *

Quite suddenly the lights went out in the function room.

Darkwing yelled at the reporter. "Get outta here, Raul, it's not safe!" The reporter blinked and hurried out the door.  
"Come on, Darwin Duck. I dare you to show yourself." Photon Pig reached the wall to wall windows that let in the glowing light from the city outside. He continued to peer into the gloom of the room, looking for his quarry. 'Show yourself, and I'll make you extinct.'

"Okay! Look, just ... put down the gun." Darkwing said in as warm and friendly a voice as he could muster. He appeared out of the shadows and approached the pig as he stood near the window. "Only ten to twenty, manslaughter and burglary if you give yourself up now. Your lawyers can make a solid case that you couldn't control the ..."  
"Well, I can control it now."  
"Yes, I can see that and I'm grateful, Barry ..."  
"Be sorry, not grateful! I am Photon Pig. Remember that!"

He triggered the weapon at Darkwing.

* * *

Everything went blinding white. Darkwing felt his body was on fire and his mind was rapidly closing in. He stumbled to the window, fumbling in his pocket. He pulled out the tuning fork and rapped it against the window pane, smashing it. He yanked out his gas gun from behind him and loading the grapple from memory, fired up at the next skyscraper. He knew it was there only because he remembered it. After a moment, he pulled the rope taut, and he jumped out of the window. He hit the side of the other building with no more pain than he was already in. His fingers lost their strength to hold his weight, and he fell, unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * *

A triumphant Photon Pig came back to his apartment and found his flat broken into. He stepped inside and found his master weapon utterly dismantled. The parts were mangled and useless.  
"No! Blast that Darkwing Duck, he did this!" Photon Pig snorted. "I don't know how he did it, but it was him. He's a fool if he thinks that will stop me. I'll just rebuild it." He picked up a warped circuit board, noticing that the diamonds he'd stolen that morning were no longer in the chamber. He looked around his apartment: he'd already gutted his white goods for the parts. "I'll just have to rebuild it from scratch."

He narrowed his eyes. "All Darkwing Duck has done is delay the inevitable." He fisted his hand and the circuit board melted, dripping to the floor.


	10. Toasted

**Chapter Nine: Toasted**

* * *

The chairs stopped spinning and Launchpad looked around the empty lounge room.

"Gosalyn!" He ran up the stairs and stopped in front of her room.  
"Launchpad?" The ten year old appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in her day clothes and she had her backpack in her hands. Her face was grim with worry.  
"DW ... he didn't come back."  
Gosalyn stared at him for a moment. "So he ... he really did know." She said with a quaver in her voice. She gulped.

Then there was a change over her, and she slung her backpack on her back, meaning business. "Come on, Launchpad, we don't have any time!" She raced downstairs and waited for him on the armchairs.  
He followed her down and stepped in front of her. "Gos, how're we ..."  
She held out her hand. On her wrist was a black watch band. "It's the tracking receiver dad gave me, Launchpad. It'll take us straight to him. Come on, Launchpad, let's go!"

He sat down on the other chair and she hit the mouse detective's head. The two of them spun away into darkness.

* * *

Eight minutes later, a very frightened Launchpad found himself driving the rat-catcher along the streets of St. Canard. He was terrified of what they were going to find of his friend.

"Left!" Gosalyn called out once again from the sidecar.

Launchpad turned and braked, screeching the tyres, nearly driving into a wall. Gosalyn got out of the sidecar and ran into the alleyway. He lagged behind, gulping, fearing a pile of dust.  
"Launchpad, he's still alive! Come and help me!"  
He ran to her side and looked down.

There wasn't much more left of Darkwing than a grey-feathered skeleton dressed up in the masked vigilante's costume.

He stumbled back and turned away as his stomach lurched. "I d-I don't think he's alive." He grimaced, straining to keep his stomach under control.  
"He's a vampire, Launchpad! If he were dead he'd be a pile of dust. Come on, Launchpad! Help me move him!"

* * *

Launchpad drove the rat-catcher straight to Avian Way. He carried Darkwing inside and put him in his bed upstairs.

Launchpad stared at him as DW lay there. They'd been friends for well over a year now. Day in, night out, they'd worked, stopping bad guys, solving mysteries. Right now, DW looked as cold as death. 'He looks worse than some of Amelia's friends,' Launchpad thought with a shudder.

He backed away and turned.

"Gos?" He looked at the thermos in her hands.  
"I've got some juice for him for when he wakes up." She answered his unspoken question. She hugged Launchpad. "You go, I'll look after him. Thanks, Launchpad; I don't know what I'd have done without you." Her voice quavered in emotion.

"Sure." He croaked in answer. He felt numb as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Gosalyn approached her father in the bed. 'My dad: the vampire.'

Gosalyn had seen this in movies. Half dust, half duck. She reached forwards to remove his mask. Brittle feathers disintegrated to her touch. She gazed at him in a mixture of horror and woe. What had been a young duck approaching thirty had become an ancient duck approaching a hundred and fifty. "You've gotta wake up, dad; you can't eat if you don't wake up." She fretted in an endless exhausting worry.

She fell asleep, her head in her arms on the bed beside him.

* * *

Morgana stepped up to the Mallard's front door and knocked. The door was off its latch and creaked open. "Gosalyn?" She called out. "Launchpad?"

She ventured inside and looked into the lounge room. "Launchpad?"  
Launchpad was white-faced. Shaking, staring in front of him at the blank TV screen.  
"I ... I've never ... he's still alive. Un-unbelievable ..."  
She looked up the stairs. "I'll-."  
"Don't ... don't go up there, Morgana." There were tears in his eyes.  
"Gosalyn called me to help."  
"There's not a lot you can do. Please, please just stay down here."  
Morgana sighed, wringing her hands. "Gosalyn ..." She looked back up the stairs.  
"I don't know when she'll come back down again. But she's up there with him right now."

"How about I make a cocoa for you, Launchpad?" Morgana went into the kitchen.

* * *

Gosalyn woke up with a start from movement beside her.

"Dad?" She stared at him. He was sitting up, gazing almost unblinking at her under the light of the table lamp. His eyes were a vibrant red.

"... Blood ..." There was no expression on his sallow face but that look of complete overwhelming hunger.  
"Dad? Are you awake?"  
"I need blood." He repeated in an empty tranced tone. His voice sounded as harsh and broken as his body looked.  
"In the flask."  
He blinked at her. She pointed to the table beside him, but he remained staring at her. She got up off the stool and picked up the flask.  
"I need blood."

Her grip was suddenly weak as she struggled to untwist the lid; it was a case of the lid versus her nerves. Then, trembling, she held the open flask out to him.

"Give me blood."  
"This'll help you, dad. It's ..."  
"That is not blood."  
"It'll help you." She insisted. She was working to keep it together, but the longer this went on, the closer she came to cracking up.

His eyelids flickered, and he turned his head, stretching his neck. Then he returned to staring at her with the blank hungry look and those glowing red eyes.

"Gos-a-lyn." He held out his hand for her.  
"Just drink the juice!" She quacked, holding the flask out between them like a shield, shutting her eyes, looking away. "Please, dad." She begged softly.

His fingers came up against hers around the flask. The remains of his feathers were scratchy and prickly. His touch was cold, making her feathers curl.  
"Please take the flask." She repeated.  
His grip firmed on the object. He pulled it away from her fingers and gulped down the contents. Gosalyn breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gos-a-lyn."  
"You need rest, dad." She took a step towards him but he continued to watch her. "Lie down, dad."  
His fingers released the empty flask and it fell clattering onto the floor. "I need blood."  
"I'll get you some more a little bit later. Right now, you need some rest, dad ... Rest, dad! Lie down."

"Gos-a-lyn."  
"Lie ... down." She gritted. His eyelids flickered again and then he lay down. She grabbed the edges of the covers in her hands. With a growl he snatched her up, lifting her off the floor and into his arms, making her squawk.

He pulled her against him and she could physically feel how thin and bony he'd become. His feathers were coarse and broken and his entire body was cold to her touch.

"Oh, dad." She couldn't take this anymore and sobbed in his arms as he held her.

* * *

...

...


	11. DeLoonian

_A/N: Does anyone appreciate that it only took Megavolt just five minutes to figure out how to defeat Darkwing Duck but yet it took Photon Pig all of fifteen minutes?_

_Because Megavolt is nothing short of a genius, I decided to draw him using this nature. Sure, he's insane ... all the geniuses I've met in real life are not unlike him. I'm convinced that all geniuses are deep down real live wires, just like Megsy._

_Because I am interested in depicting 'real people' rather than two dimensional posters, I consider each of my focal characters as composite beings. There is a fraction of me in my Megavolt._

_So, to me the jail scene earlier should make perfect sense because we're inside Megavolt's head. And I know that these supposedly 'crazy nutter ideas' that are out there in the world come about from perfectly reasonable, functioning minds. I know that while it's in your head it all makes sense! And for Megavolt, as a 'real person', this is likewise the case._

* * *

_A/N: One of my favourite episodes of _Darkwing Duck_ is _Duck Blind_._

* * *

**Chapter Ten: DeLoonian**

* * *

The ride was the smoothest Megavolt had ever had.

He slowed down to the lights, looking out the windscreen at the empty misty night. "I wonder why Darkwing didn't stop me from taking the DeLoonian." He sighed, drooping over the wheel as he tried to figure out why he was so depressed while driving such a nice car. "I guess this is just boring without him chasing me."

He stared at the small hand-held contraption sitting on the seat beside him. To the ordinary eye, it just looked like a standard Dodo torch. "And I didn't even get to try out my new Nova Light. What am I supposed to do now?"

The engine purred in quiet electrical delicacy.  
"What, DeLoonie baby? You say there's a bunch of mean people out there that want to mess up your paintwork?"  
The engine continued to purr as he cast his eyes out to the street.  
"Well, what'd'ya know." He giggled and rolled down his window. "Maybe I can have some fun after all."

* * *

He watched the gang of thugs swagger across the street to him just as the light turned green.

"Yo, dip face!" They jeered at him, milling threateningly all around the car. "Nice ride."  
"Yeah, that's why I got it." He replied with a casual laugh.  
"Why're you waiting around at the lights?"  
"There ain't nobody out here!"

Megavolt grinned. He leaned out the window. "There wasn't anybody out here. But now there's you!" He revved the engine loudly making them jump away. He shot forwards across the intersection, slowed, veered in a U turn and aimed the DeLoonian directly at them as they stood there in the centre of the street, gaping.

He revved the engine and then put his foot down.

The thugs scattered like bowling pins, yelling "maniac!" as they ran to get clear of the fastest electric powered car on the road: the DeLoonian.  
"Yep!" He cackled as he drove on past them, flinging a mild bolt of electricity out the window at them for good measure.

"Nobody messes with Megavolt."

* * *

His smile faded as he sat back in his comfy Corinthian leather seat. "D'oh, that was too easy! Bright idea, DeLoonian." He groaned miserably, "you just made me feel worse."  
The engine growled.  
"Oh yeah? Well, the same to you!" He retorted.

The car door opened up and the seat ejected him sideways onto the footpath. The DeLoonian shut the door and revved its engine angrily.

Megavolt stood up. "Oo, touchy!" He yelled out as the machine continued on up the road without him. "At least my XB doesn't have little temper tantrums!" He snorted and turned away from the retreating vehicle. "I'm going home." He twisted to look again at the empty street where the DeLoonian was disappearing up, "the old fashioned way! And by that I mean 'on foot'!" He turned back and started walking home to his lighthouse.

"What do I want another car for anyway?"

* * *

It wasn't till he got home and was in bed that he realised the DeLoonian still had his Nova Light sitting on the passenger seat.

"Who cares!" He shut his eyes and turned over, pulling the insulation blanket up over his head. "I've got nobody to use it on anymore, anyway."

* * *

_Moral/Overview: How lonely is life without even a tormentor for company? - Star Trek The Original Series: Dagger of the Mind_


	12. Home

_A/N: I am posting this, only because I am insane. _

_A/N: Led Zepplin: Stairway to Heaven_

* * *

**Home**

* * *

_**Several Weeks Later ...**_

* * *

This was where he grew up.

Elmo Sputterspark drove into the large driveway of the small ancient farmhouse, getting the feeling like he was in a time warp. The lawn was ragged and unkempt, as always. The scarce few trees that had been around when he was a kid were even taller and the hedges were even more wild and bushy.

He got out of his old orange XB. This sudden surge of memories made him take a few more steps down the overgrown driveway to the back of the house to have a look. He blinked in astonishment to find the swing-set was still there in its semi-dismantled state, although ramblers and grass had partially claimed it too. He remembered conducting a few rather dangerous experiments with that device.

_'Come on, E, you've recalculated it two times already! Just light the fuse!'_

What was that boy's name? Elmo could almost remember. He was so familiar. Elmo stretched his mind, calling up another memory. They were at a bus station.

_'Stop worrying, D. Between ma and me nothing can go wrong. Go camping and be that junior wood-duck that you need to be.'_  
_'Thanks, E,' the boy hugged him, 'er, actually I'm a junior wood-chuck.'_  
_'You know I've never quite understood that ...'_  
_The driver called down to them. 'Are you getting on, son, or have you decided to stay here?'_  
_'See you in a couple weeks E,' the boy waved and stepped up into the bus._

"And I still don't understand why it's wood 'chuck'." Elmo sighed; this place was making him nostalgic today. He turned back and approached the front of the old house again.

Before he got too close, he looked up to the roof above the porch, and saw that his mum's outdoor sitting area was still up there. Although looking a bit more weathered, it was still intact. He could remember, one summer when he'd been very young, helping his mother put it together, so that they could always look out at the stars together. The memory made him smile.

* * *

Elmo approached the porch and stepped up the two steps. There were never any pot-plants littering the porch like one might expect from someone else's mother. There were only one set of rubber-soled shoes that lived beside the door now. He took his off and put them beside his mother's. The 'welcome' printed on the doormat was new to him. He knocked on the door and waited. All things considered, he was home.

"Elmo!" She welcomed him in with a fierce hug and shut the door behind him.  
"Hi, ma. Sorry I haven't come around much lately."  
"Oh, that's alright, sweetheart. We all get a bit distracted." She ushered him further into the house.  
Elmo stepped back in the doorway to the lounge room as he caught sight of a thin rat, looking quite a bit like him but instead with glasses. The rat got up off the couch. "Don?" Elmo glanced back at his mother, obviously this was some conspiracy. They'd even taken their shoes off inside the door.  
"Oh, don't give your mother that look, Elmo. Honestly, you wonder why I don't tell you things, why, then you'd never have shown up, because ..."  
" 'There are too many people.' " Don joined in, both of them giving the line at the same time. He smiled at Elmo. "I haven't seen you since we were twelve, E. Don't blame your ma; I twisted her arm."

Then Don remembered something. He cleared his throat, "Uh, E, this is my fiancé, Allora. I brought her around so she could meet some of my family."

The young woman pushed her glasses back up her nose to regard Elmo properly. "Hi, E." She said, holding out her hand. Elmo didn't have time to fully consider this revelation yet, shook it. "Do you always wear rubber gloves?"  
"Yes. Otherwise I'd electrocute you." Elmo mumbled a response. "It's not a pleasant experience."  
"Don explained to me about what that Ham guy did to you. I think you've taken it pretty well."  
Elmo blinked at her. That felt sincere as she gazed back at him with her very studious eyes.

Suddenly an alarm blared.  
Elmo spun around. "What, is it an intruder?" Someone breaking into his mother's house would find a big surprise in store...

"No, that's the smoke alarm, it's just telling me dinner's ready." His mother answered. "Could you press the button for me dear?" His mother tapped his shoulder and handed him a wooden rod to deactivate the alarm and she pointed up, he looked and there it was directly over his head. Then she crossed the room and opened the windows as he raised the stick to the button.

"Now that the council ordered me to put these detectors in, I've found I don't need to remember to use the oven timer. Allora, would you mind giving me a hand in the kitchen?" Elmo watched Allora follow his mother into the kitchen.  
He returned the rod to the window sill and crossed his arms. "I thought helping in the kitchen was my job." He pouted to himself, a little hurt.  
"Oh, you know, E, it's ... a girl thing; they like to cluster together."

Elmo looked back at Don. Now they were alone. "You haven't even asked me what I'm doing with myself now, Elmo." Elmo shrugged. "I'm section head of research in Vortelex industries."  
"I always thought those guys were a bit stuffy with the way they handle some research projects." That was the only opinion Elmo had on it, since he'd been a criminal since before he'd been able to graduate and couldn't compare it to any other sort of 'job'.  
"Well, yeah, I'm trying to bring a more enlightened view to the company. Some days it's more uphill than others."  
"Don't confuse the issue, Don. There's no kinetic force at work when it comes to approving and signing off projects."  
Don laughed. "I'm glad you still have a sense of humour, E." Elmo smiled back.

"Actually, I've been reading up a bit on St Canard the last couple of weeks, you know, seeing that we would be coming to visit Aunty Sylvia. Did you know that there's a massive employee turnover at Xo Technology at the moment?"  
"Yes. They say it's because Photon Pig used to work there."  
"It could be an opportunity for you; that's all I'm saying. Besides, I know that a guy like that'd never bother Megavolt. What is Photon Pig made of, anyway?"  
"From the look of him and the description of his victims, he's undergone subatomic particle bombardment using some pretty intense cutting edge experimental equipment. He's giving off thermal radiation and light waves at will."  
"Whoa! I'd love to get my hands on that little baby!" Don said with an enthusiastic gleam in his eye.  
"Me too." Elmo agreed.  
"But still, a guy like that'd be nothing to you." Don smiled at him. "And you know all that stuff they're doing at Xo Tech, heck, you probably know more than most of them in that lab, put together."

Elmo considered Don earnestly.  
"It doesn't bother you that I'm a super villain now?"  
"It's true that I can't agree with everything that you do, Elmo. But I like to think your proactive stance against bullying is good. I mean, I still have the odd larrikin light-out in my office and the odd salted coffee every so often, don't ever think I don't get where you're coming from. We're both Sputtersparks, after all." Don shook his head. "But I simply don't get you, E, because you-are-a-Sputterspark! Have you even thought about it? You can get an honest, high paying job in any science lab you want and they'd be grateful to have you on board. You don't need to be a criminal. You don't need a degree." He tapped his head.

Don's eyes flickered towards the kitchen. "We'd better help them. I've always loved aunty Sylvia's cooking, but the idea of leaving those two together for too long worries me. Last time, Allora and my mum were entirely too much for one rat to handle. I don't want to repeat the experiment." Elmo followed Don into the kitchen.

* * *

"... Oh, hello boys, I was just telling Allora how the council wouldn't permit me installing my mini Hadron Collider prototype design into the disposal system."  
"Oh no, aunty Sylvia! You've been working on that for years. What was wrong with it?"  
"They turned right around and accused me of trying to destroy the planet! The nerve, I honestly don't think they even looked at my blue prints. Or they'd see I had built in precautions to make sure the black hole didn't get too big."  
Elmo shook his head. "I know the feeling, ma." How many times had Darkwing Duck stopped him because of little things like this?

"But at least I upgraded my microwave like I was talking about." She grinned at Elmo, and opened the door to the giant microwave convection oven. He ducked his head around to have a look. It was even bigger on the inside.  
"It works like a dream on all water based substances." She grinned at him. "Oh, and what else is new?" She drummed her fingers on the side of her nose for a moment. "Well, there's the ADS enhancement to the household security system that you gave me for Christmas. I'm glad my son still takes care of his poor old mother." She hugged him. "Maybe you can set Don and Allora up with one as well?"  
"I only built one, ma." Elmo looked at her seriously.  
"An ADS?" Allora interrupted with a bowl of carrots in her hands. "E! You gave your mum a heat ray for Christmas?"  
"I don't like my mother being here on her own. Besides, it's not dangerous."  
"I know that, I'm a scientist too! What, do I look like a librarian? What I meant was; that I think that's brilliant!"

"Come on, guys!" Don interrupted them from behind, a stack of plates in his hands.  
Allora put down the bowl of steaming carrots beside a bowl of gravy on the kitchen table. "Did you two forget about dinner? Here was I thinking it was just Don that was absent-minded, Mrs S."  
"Sure, it's genetic." Elmo's mother answered. "In all the history of the Sputtersparks, 'Sputter' refers to sporadic memory dysfunction not an elocution issue."  
"Or an electrocution issue for some of us." Elmo added quietly.  
"I thought you were all inventors and some of your experiments had electrocution issues?"  
"Oh." Elmo and his mum looked at each other. "That too."

"Why, that reminds me of some things Don and Elmo's grandparents did that had even me and Don's father wondering as kids." They picked up the dishes and headed out of the room.  
Don seized some knives and forks and headed out after the two women with the vegetables. He laughed as he crossed into the other room after the two women. "You're in for it now, Allora."

Elmo reviewed the job of cutting up the roast that Don had cleverly left to him.

There was laughing in the other room as Elmo dissected the roast with the electric knife's help. The windows were wide open and it was an autumn night. But it felt like a lifetime since he'd last felt so warm. He grabbed the tray and joined his family.

* * *

The dinner conversation mostly consisted of Don and Allora debating over their wedding arrangements and what alternative kitchen waste management options that the council might approve for Elmo's mother. When she pressed them to stay the night, the lovers insisted they'd already set up to stay with Don's other cousins.

* * *

After Allora and Don had left, Elmo sat back down at the table with his mother as she stirred her coffee.

"Thanksgiving's soon."  
Elmo's eyes dropped to the table. "October ... 25 ..." He hadn't pinpointed the exact day the events of his dream would unfold but it was cutting it close.  
"You will come for Thanksgiving, won't you?"  
He swallowed. "I dunno ma. I'll try."  
She put down her spoon. "Never mind then."  
"No, I wanna come!"  
"I don't want to be disappointed again." He stared at her, working hard with his memory. Oh yes. Last year he'd been in jail.  
"But I'm here now!"

"That's true. I just wish I could rely on you a bit more, Elmo. And it'd be nice to have it together for a change. I mean, I just get to feeling ..."  
"Ma, of course I love you and I do want to spend time with you. Look, I'm just not sure I have that day available. How about the weekend before?"  
She blinked at him, and then she smiled. "That would be lovely, but I won't have that day off."  
"How about Saturday?"  
She nodded. "Let's make it a Saturday then, sweetheart."

"Ma ..." Elmo began again, getting down on his knees in front of his mother. "I love you heaps." He looked up at her.  
"I know, sweetheart." She patted his shoulder.  
"I've got a present for you, ma." He reached into his pocket and handed her the envelope.  
She blinked in confusion as she pulled out the bus tickets. "Tomorrow? Elmo, I can't go travelling ... I've got work on Monday."  
"But tomorrow's Saturday." He grinned at her. "You, me ..."  
She studied the contents of the envelope, "and the Gearloose Museum of Inventions!" She whooped and hugged him. "Oh, we haven't been there together since it first opened!" Electricity crackled and she jumped back in the next instant.  
"Sorry." Elmo mumbled, his mood taking a quick dive. "I got a little overloaded with excitement."  
"Oh, I'm alright, Elmo." His mother patted down her flying hair. "Does that mean you'll stay over tonight?"  
Elmo shrugged. "You don't mind?"  
"Of course not," she smiled at him, "it's good to have my baby back."  
"We can catch the bus together in the morning and spend the whole day in Duckburg. It'll be good."  
"It certainly will." She smiled. "Do you remember when we went there last time? It was your twelfth birthday."  
"Vaguely." Elmo replied. "I remember it was a good day."  
"It was a lot of ingenuity on my part to make sure your best friend joined us." His mother revealed.  
"D." Elmo mused, having dredged up a few vague memories of him earlier. "And his mum."

* * *

The grandfather clock chimed, and he heard his grandfather's favourite song, and his old favourite.

_"There's a lady _  
_who's sure _  
_all that glitters _  
_is gold_  
_and she's buying_  
_a stairway _  
_to heaven"_

Elmo sighed. "That tune stuck in D's head all the times he came over."

_"When she gets _  
_there she knows_  
_if the stores _  
_are all closed_  
_with a word _  
_she can get _  
_what _  
_she came for"_

His mother smiled at him. "Ten o'clock, baby."

_"There are two paths _  
_that you can go by_  
_but in the long run_  
_there's still time _  
_to change the road _  
_you're on."_

Elmo's voice faded as his mind fell back on Don's statement.

_'You don't need to be a criminal. You don't need a degree.'_

"What's bothering you, hon?"  
Elmo looked up at his mother. "What do you mean?" He defended. "Who said anything was bothering me?"  
"I'm your mother." She took a sip of her coffee. "Ugh, it's gone cold." She put it down on the saucer and Elmo zapped it.  
"Now it's hot again. Ma, if you didn't have long to live, what would you do?"  
"Oh, a tough question at this time of night." She picked up the coffee and took another sip. "Thanks, sweetie." She pondered for a moment. "In this analysis of yours do I know what I'm dying of?"  
"Yes."  
"Then I'd be looking for a cure."  
Elmo shrugged. "Me too. But say if you can't cure it."  
"Then I'd go and visit my mother and spend more time with her."  
Elmo blinked. "Ma, grandma's been dead since I was little."  
"You asked me for my answer." His mother pouted at him.  
"Okay, ma." Elmo shrugged.

* * *

"Elmo, why don't you take control of your life back?" She sat forwards, gazing keenly at him through her brown eyes. "Why don't you do something ... outrageously different?" She winked at him. "You might enjoy it."  
"Like what, ma?"  
She pursed her lips. "I would never spoil the fun of discovering it for yourself."  
"What haven't I done, ma?"  
"Oh, we want a list, do we?"  
"Yes!" Elmo jumped up excitedly. "Then I could tick them all off!"

His mother stared at him for a long moment. She grabbed the envelope with the tickets in it and put the tickets on the table. She crossed the lounge room and opened the dresser drawer, pulling out a pen. She came back and wrote for several thoughtful minutes and then handed him back the list. "It's just off the top of my head, mind."  
"That list is huge!" He counted the lines. "There's a whole ... ten things I've never done?" Elmo stared at his mother as she yawned. "Ever?"  
"I think I'll go to bed now, dear; we'll have a big day tomorrow. Your bed's exactly where you left it, dear. It has clean sheets and your old anti-static blanket is on top."

"Thanks, ma."

* * *

_A/N: Wanna hear something scary? I wrote these scenes months and months ago, I think late last year. Then a couple months ago this Don and Allora thing happened to me for real. I even had the chance to bring up the Hadron Collider idea, and my cousin agreed that using one as a rubbish bin certainly would soon eliminate the entire planet (on the principle that they expand as they suck up more matter), so the council did have their heads screwed on. Although I still do sympathise with Sylvia. I mean, she is a genius, and she DID invent safety precautions! Anyway, major cool if it worked!_


	13. These Are the Days

**These Are the Days**

* * *

"Bored, bored and bored. Add a side of lost and you got a plate of Gosalyn Mallard." Gosalyn rolled over on her bed and stared at her room. In her last fit of utter boredom, she'd cleaned to the point of rediscovering the multi-sport equipment bag from under her bed that her father had given her for her last birthday and she'd even slotted everything into it.

"That rug's crinkled. I thought I just straightened that?" She grumbled and rolled off the bed onto the floor and dragged herself into a sitting position. "I hate weekends. It's cold, there's nothing to do and I don't feel like doing it when I do think of something." She muttered, trying to get the round mat flat again. "If I put my chair leg on this side it might learn to be straight. She reached forwards and yanked the chair. "Which is great until I use it again." She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Sheesh. Gos, stop wasting time and go outside already."

She stood up with a yawn and grabbed the green knitted bundle from her pillow. She paused for a moment and sat down on her bed, unscrunching the bundle. It was a sleeveless vest, the dark and light green diagonal design was reassuring and familiar. She hugged it against her, putting it up against her beak, sniffing the comforting familiar smell. Then she opened it up and put it down over her head. It was so big that when she got off the bed she pulled down the edge and it came right down over her tail feathers to her knees. Gosalyn felt the most comfortable that she had been for weeks.

* * *

Gosalyn stepped out through the kitchen door and stared at the silent yard. "And the point of coming out here wa-as ...?" She walked to the clothes line. "Look at dad's nice yard." She said crossly to herself. Leaves scattered brown and orange across the shag-pile lawn. She turned and retrieved the rake from the garage. "This'll fix it." She decided with determination and made a start.

"Oh, what a good idea." Her ears pricked at the sound of Mrs. Muddlefoot's voice and looked up. "Hello, Gosalyn."  
"Hello, Mrs. Muddlefoot." Gosalyn went to the fence.  
"Tank, why don't you follow Gosalyn's good example?"  
"Aw, what?"  
"Now, Tank."  
"Yes, mum."  
"That's a good dear."

Mrs. Muddlefoot opened the fence gate between the two properties and Gosalyn now saw that Honker's mother was carrying a pot in her mitten hands.  
"It's for your father. Coconut and lentil soup to help him get better."  
"Uh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Muddlefoot." Gosalyn swallowed. "Dad can't eat lentils on his new diet either."  
"Oh? But I'm sure the rest of you need to eat as well."  
"Morgana is looking after Launchpad and me."  
"Oh, I know that." Honker's mother tsked knowingly, "but I'm sure she could use a small hand. After all, many hands make light work." She walked on past Gosalyn and Gosalyn hurried to open the kitchen door. "It's not easy to start cooking for so many people every day all of a sudden." She put the pot on the kitchen table and turned back to Gosalyn, who decided against reminding her that Morgana was also a chef.

"Now dear, how is your father?"  
"He's getting better." Gosalyn answered determinedly.  
Mrs. Muddlefoot watched her closely. "Maybe you should call our family doctor for a second opinion. Doctor Mendlefeather is a very good practitioner." Honker's mother handed Gosalyn a note with a name and a number written on it in Binkie's handwriting.  
"He ... is ... getting better, Mrs. Muddlefoot, it's just very slowly." Gosalyn's voice choked. "Th-thanks ... Mrs. Muddlefoot."  
"Why don't you come over and play with Honker? That'd cheer the both of you up." The adult went over to the fridge and started moving things around, making room for the pot.  
"I've got it." Gosalyn grabbed the mitts and carefully slotted the pot in. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Muddlefoot. I'll tell Morgana it's to give her a little break."

Mrs. Muddlefoot petted Gosalyn's head. "Come on, sweetheart. No use a young lady staying locked up in such a gloomy old place, why you could almost believe a ghost lived in here."  
"A ghost? Yeah." Gosalyn gratefully followed her out the kitchen door.

* * *

A massive roman aqua duct traversed a distance from the edge of the expansive patio to deeper into the flower filled garden to the central water feature. The box hedges were tidy, the garden was immaculately trimmed.

Felicia approached the woman sitting, relaxing on the garden chair beside the table.

"Mother."  
"This is the wrong century for you, I think my daughter." The woman commented without taking her sunglass covered eyes off the water fountain in the distance.  
"What about the century we just had?" Felicia dropped down into the garden chair opposite her mother at the little iron-lace white-painted table.  
"Oh, yes. That one was not so good for you either."

Felicia felt the disapproval in the air almost suffocating. "David wouldn't let me go, mother."  
"You have explained your reasons, my daughter."  
"I know, and you ..." Felicia paused as the butler came out of the house with a tea tray. Vegetable bites, a pot of tea. Two cups...  
"And milk for you, milady." He put down the little porcelain jug.  
"Thanks, Billson!" Felicia smiled at him, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "You've remembered what I like after all this time. That's amazing."  
"Of course, milady." The butler nodded to the compliment and strode off.  
"And creepy." Felicia added once he'd disappeared. "I remember when his hair was brown. He was creepy back then too." She shrugged and stared back out into the garden at the spots of colour. "Nice out, this time of year."  
"Yes, when everything old aspires to reinvent itself anew with the same old tricks."  
Felicia frowned. "Oh, not again, mother, look-."

Her mother twisted on the chair to face Felicia. "We are fortunate that this time there is no coroner's report." Her mother dived into discussing her daughter's problems without giving Felicia a moment to breath.  
Felicia pulled a face. "Mother, I've learned a bit over these last hundred years!"  
"Yet I find no reassurance! Why, my child, do you think that is?"  
Felicia clenched her beak. "I think it's just my plain bad luck getting involved with the social dregs, that's all."  
The elder didn't make a comment and Felicia poured them each a cup from the teapot.

"I cannot think where you have gotten such an untamed temper. Your father was always a constrained gentleman and I certainly have never ..."  
"I have tamed my temper!" Felicia snapped angrily, putting down the milk with a chink on the tray. "There's just a point when I can't take it anymore, and that's it! Sometimes people are nasty, vicious beasts, mother. They're beyond reasoning with. If you're going to get the point across, sometimes you have to use brute force."

"Truly. How would someone perceive you, do you think?"  
Felicia sat back. "I'm not going to be a victim, mother. I refuse to be a victim."  
"It isn't just me that finds your approach to a situation undesirable, my daughter. Killing outside of the Mastership rules has drawn unfavourable attention to you from the general populace."  
"Then good!" Felicia growled. "I refuse to be painted as some weak ... uh, something ... I-I mean some-one weak. I don't have a problem with what I've done. I'm not weak! I can look after myself and nobody's going to mess with me!"  
Her mother shook her head at her. "Unless you wish to single-handedly declare war on the Mastership, I believe it is best you attempt to curtail your aggressive tendencies towards vampires. And ..."  
"Okay, mother! I understand." Felicia decided not to tell her mother that she'd already been through that with the Master herself. "I will look for another solution."  
"Where shall you go this time, Felicia? I fear you've overstayed your welcome in Paris."  
"America then. It's been a while since I've been there."  
A reminiscent smile tugged at the corners of her mother's beak. "New Orleans?"

"Now who has aggressive tendencies?" Felicia muttered. "No, mother; that's your-thing."  
"Oh, Felicia. Maybe that's why you get so cross; you hardly have any fun in your life. New Orleans is a lively place. So much fun-."  
"Now you're suggesting something fun for me to do?" Felicia rubbed her forehead, incredulous. "It's no wonder we don't talk much, mother."  
"There is no need to be ill-mannered, young lady!"  
"Not at all, mother dearest." Felicia smiled over at her. "How about rabbit for dinner tonight?"

Her mother stared at her for a long moment. "Off you go then. Dear." She replied in a stilted voice.

They stared at each other for several long moments and Felicia's resolution slipped.

"I'm sorry for mentioning rabbits, mother. I do love you but when we talk all you seem to want to do is fix my 'problems'. I want to fix my own problems."  
"Oh, that's very good to hear you say that at last!" Her mother congratulated her.  
Felicia sat back somewhat disgruntled. "Haven't I said it before?"  
"Not to me." Her mother grinned. "What a piece of good news."  
"Are you going to stop badgering me then?"  
"... For two years."  
"Ten!" Felicia countered.  
"Five."  
"Fine! Five years, mother, and no pestering me and that's including by the postal service, mother."  
"You have to keep up your end of the deal. You-."  
"I'm going to, you can count on it!" Felicia crossed her arms.


	14. The KnockOff

_A/N: Was there a question buried deep in the back of your mind about this story? Was it maybe ... 'Geez, Louise, get back to the action plot, please'?_

* * *

**The Knock-Off **

* * *

The mallard dressed in a purple cape and mask was tip-toeing from shadow to shadow, tailing two suspects as they walked along, drinking their cans of drink.

"Yo, check that out, Laz." The short, tubby squirrel pointed at an Italian cafe.  
"Aw, come on, that Last Minute store wasn't enough for ya tonight?" The taller squirrel complained.  
"Laz, you dugong, look at the awning! It's ..."  
"What's wrong with red and white stripes, Boonie?"  
"Look, Laz, it's you and me. We gotta do somethin' about the low standards around here, and I says it's gotta go!"  
"Alrighto, Boonie." Laz gulped down his drink.

The mallard stepped out of the shadows behind them, determined to prevent this particular spree of destructive mayhem from continuing. He recalled the speech he'd memorised earlier. 'Now, what was it? I am the ... uh-the empty fuel gauge thirty miles from the nearest petrol station? No that was yesterday. Aw, come on, I used it only half an hour ago! Oh, that's right ... I am the flight that you just missed!'

Laz tossed his empty can over his shoulder, and it hit the purple crime fighter on the beak before bouncing onto the pavement.

"Ow! Hey! I mean, I guess I'll add littering to your list of offences."

"Yo!" The two criminals turned to face him.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" The vigilante brandished his purple cape without missing another beat. "I am the-."  
"Well, well. If it ain't Gonzo the clown." Boonie mocked. "There was I thinking as how you got ya feather's barbecued, Darkwing."  
"You two are under arrest."  
"Come on over here an' try it, punk." Laz threatened, flexing his muscles.  
"Uh ... I was actually kinda hoping you two would ... you know ... just come quietly tonight?"  
Laz and Boonie burst into laughter. "Oh, that's a good un ..."

While they laughed, the purple clad mallard charged forwards, taking Laz by surprise with a sharp left hook which brought the squirrel staggering back. Boonie grabbed the avian by the waist and the crime fighter struggled with difficulty to get free. The short squirrel bit into his leg.

"Yee-ouch!" The mallard shrieked and renewed his attempts to pry Boonie off him. "Something tells me ... I should've ... picked the Teflon outfit tonight!" He grabbed into his jacket pocket. "Hungry? How about a brownie, Boonie!" He pulled out his fist and jammed what he had grabbed into Boonie's sharp mouth. "They're my own recipe!"

Boonie chewed and swallowed. "Hey, that ain't bad ..." His face suddenly went red and he let go of the mallard. He started gasping for breath. "Hot! Hot! Water! Ice! Please!"  
"Aw, don't you like my brownies?" The crime fighter pouted as he put a set of cuffs on Boonie, aware that Laz was recovering and was seeing red. In a fit of nerves the purple crusader tensed his muscles. 'Here goes nothing.' As the taller squirrel came at him he let fly with a double web kick.

* * *

In a daze the masked mallard found himself lying on the ground nearby. He got up and looked around for Laz.

Laz was out cold on the pavement and Boonie was still safely cuffed. "Well, what'd'ya know?" The mallard smiled to himself and limped over to Laz with another set of handcuffs. "It worked this time." The purple crime fighter now had his two petty criminals successfully cuffed up.

Two police officers came running up. "Darkwing Duck? Hey, are you alright?"

The caped crusader felt a lump rising in his throat as he stepped back into the shadows. Trying to avoid answering the friendly police officers he turned into the nearby alleyway and kept walking, ignoring the pain in his leg. "Yeah ... I wish you were alright, DW." The vigilante looked up at the fence at the end of the alleyway, pulled out the grapple hook and rope and the gas gun from behind him and put the hook in the barrel. "I can do this one. DW taught me how to do it." He aimed the hook at the top of the fence. He pulled the trigger and the gas gun exploded in his fist making him drop it.

The grapple shot twenty metres up into the air before arching over and fiercely hooking itself around a street lamp on the other side of the street beyond the fence.

The mallard picked up what used to be his gas gun. "Whoops. Heh, maybe I shouldn't listen to Gosalyn all the time? I keep forgetting she's only ten." He shrugged and put the charcoaled gun away. The end of the rope was luckily hanging slackly over the fence and he used it to help him up and over to the other side.

* * *

The purple crusader landed unsteadily on the pavement.

"Say cheese." The camera flashed at him.

He blinked the stars away from his eyes as he tried to recognise his photographer. "Hey, I thought you were into radio, Rhode. What's with the pictures?"  
"I do a bit of everything, Mr. Darkwing." Raul responded. "Chance is a fine thing in this business and it pays double to be on two payrolls."  
"Huh?" The Darkwing duplicate struggled to understand what Raul was talking about. "Uh, yeah I guess ... that would ... um, how do you mean?"  
"You know; because I get paid twice for the one story. By the way, I wanted to say sorry for-."

A crash of windows and the splintering of wood up the street interrupted the reporter. People were crying out. The noise of a siren quickly followed.

The purple clad crime fighter turned from the reporter and saw a patrol car pull up to the curb up ahead. "I'd better see if I can help them." With that the masked mallard rushed towards the disturbance.

* * *

There was a dazzling flash of light from the place and several screams from inside.

"Yikes!" The mallard changed direction slightly and instead dove behind the police car as the police officers jumped out with their guns. They charged in through the entrance of the store but he didn't follow because he wasn't sure of what he was facing. 'Now who can make a flash like Photon Pig?'

Darkwing Duck's double gulped as he heard the sound of Photon Pig's voice.

"Ha-hah! Darkwing Duck may have succeeded in destroying my weapon last time, but this time, there's no one to stop me; Photon Pig!"

'... Um, how about ... Photon Pig?'

* * *

'If he sees me I'm as good as dead just like those people in there!' He clenched his beak at his grim assessment. '... Photon must be getting new parts to that machine I smashed up.' He sighed. '... Well, we have the time you wanted, DW.' He blinked back tears. 'But time to do what? You never told me that part, DW. You'd know exactly what to do ... But you're not here ...' Then the mallard saw movement out of the corner of his eye before Rhode disappeared from his view ... in front of the store.

"Rhode, get behind something! Hide!" He called out.

The street around his protectively shadowed spot behind the car lit up in a flash of white.  
"My eyes!" Raul screamed.

The mallard kept his still working eyes on the police car's paintwork. "Rhode, you need to get back behind the car before he comes out and finds you!"  
"Help me! I-can't-see anything!" Raul shrieked in horror.  
"Look, I can help you if you just keep quiet; I can get to you-."  
"I'm-blind! My-life-is-over! How can I report on something I can't see?"  
The mallard stood up to help the reporter, but he glimpsed movement in the shop and ducked down out of sight.

He was too late.

* * *

Photon Pig stepped back out onto the street and found the owner of the panic stricken voice standing in front of the jewellery store. Clearly he'd been standing there when Photon had used his miniature gun to disintegrate those fool police officers. A camera was on the ground beside him, telling Photon that this person was probably a reporter.  
"Help me; I've gone blind!" The poor unfortunate soul wailed, not realising who he was talking to.  
With a snigger Photon stepped on the camera and turned it into shards of plastic and snapped circuit boards. Then he grabbed the tiny reporter. "You like making news, you reporters. So let me help you make the news for you. It'll be ... oh, say about thirty seconds if you're lucky."

* * *

The crime fighter shrank back behind the police car, watching helplessly as Photon Pig lumbered away with Raul Rhode. "I'm so sorry, Rhode." He whispered hoarsely, feeling hot tears spring into his eyes from his failure. "He was too quick ... and ... I'm not."

The purple crime fighter got to the next alleyway where he'd parked the rat-catcher. "...But I just can't take on Photon Pig and win ... or even get out of it alive." He twisted the key in the ignition and the engine started up with an assertive roar. "I wish I could do something."

He drove the rat-catcher slowly, recalling DW's last fateful plan. The most important thing to DW had been to stop Photon from finishing his doomsday weapon. It was so vital that it had involved DW sacrificing himself so Launchpad could get a clear window of time to destroy it. " ... Wait ... I know Photon's not at home right now!" The crime fighter sped the motor cycle up now he knew where he was going. "Oh, boy; is Photon going to be mad when he gets back!" The crime fighter smiled for a brief moment.

Then he remembered the unfortunate Raul. "You just helped buy the rest of St. Canard more time, Mr. Rhode."


	15. Toast

_A/N: And now, from the brain of a person capable of watching Mickey Mouse at two o'clock on a Sunday morning (if only with their finger on the fast forward button for the more cringe worthy parts) ..._

* * *

**Dark Duck: Tricks With Mirrors**

* * *

**Food and Family**

* * *

Gosalyn came in through the front door, dropping her school bag on the floor beside the coat stand. Her books and pencils went scattering noisily, but she just dashed past them into the kitchen.  
"Gosalyn." She looked up at Morgana's greeting. "How was-?"  
"Quick, it's on the radio, Morgana!" Morgana reached up above the fridge. Gosalyn pulled off her headphones.  
"... treating the death of on-the-street news reporter Raul Rhode of DN studios, who was killed early this morning by the 6:15 train to Duckberg, as yet another homicide. The death toll so far this month for St. Canard is now standing at ..."  
Morgana turned the radio off. "Photon Pig again." She sighed.

"Maybe you could cast a shadow spell?"  
"A shadow spell?"  
"Quacky told me about it."  
Morgana's frown deepened. "Gosalyn, even if my powerbase wasn't so off-kilter, it wouldn't work."  
"Why not?" Gosalyn crossed her arms.  
Morgana sighed. "Because in its purest essence, darkness doesn't fight the light, Gos, it just waits the light out."

"Well, we can't wait much longer or there won't be a St. Canard to fight about!" Gosalyn reached into one of the cupboards. "I know I put it in here somewhere."  
"What are you looking for, honey?"  
"A large vial; it's got purple stuff in it."  
Morgana reached in over Gosalyn's head and picked up the vial from the back of the cupboard. "Isn't this Doctor Bellum's potion Dark was talking about?" She handed it to Gosalyn. "Your father seemed very adamant he didn't want to touch the stuff."  
Gosalyn looked up worriedly at Morgana. "You haven't ... gone up there, have you?"  
"You told me not to, Gosalyn." Morgana replied simply.  
"Well, please don't." Gosalyn turned away from her, holding the vial in her fists. "It's safer for me. I don't know about for you."

"What about the juice? What if Doctor Bellum's potion doesn't work?"  
"Well, there's only so much formula ..." Gosalyn mused. "I know!" She reached into the cup cupboard and pulled out a glass. "Where's the juice?"  
"Here, sweetie." Morgana handed her the jug of fresh tomato and carrot juice.  
"Thanks, Morgana." Gosalyn poured a glass of juice, and then added a dash of the formula.  
"Are you so certain he'll drink it? You know how sensitive he's always been about food. Are you sure I shouldn't do it for you, Gos?"  
"If it doesn't work it'd better be me in there, Morgana." Gosalyn warned as she picked up the drink.  
"Here." Morgana gave her a tray. "Steady."  
"I'm alright. Thanks." Gosalyn went up the stairs with the tray.

* * *

Gosalyn balanced the tray and stepped into the dark room. She closed the door behind her, sealing herself into the gloom.

"Gos-a-lyn." Her father's voice rasped as she came in and put the tray on the bedside table.

She looked up at him and found him staring at her. "Dad?" He merely blinked at her. She sighed; once again she'd hoped too much for him to be awake.  
"What is that, Gos-a-lyn?"  
Gosalyn hesitated, her fingers around the glass. Could he really smell the tiniest amount of formula that she'd mixed into his juice?  
"I need blood, Gos-a-lyn."  
It was the same thing he asked for every night but in order to get past the fact that it no longer smelled like plain juice Gosalyn had to play this slightly differently. She held out the glass in the grey and blackness of the room, "Do you see the colour of it? What colour is it, dad?"  
His eyelids flickered. "It's red."  
"Red like what, dad?  
"Like blood."  
"Yes, dad. Just like blood." Gosalyn repeated his answer.  
"... Blood." Her father licked his beak as she brought the glass closer. "I need blood."

Gosalyn put her free hand against his bony chest to steady herself. "Open your beak, dad." She watched as he opened his beak, his fangs extending. 'Well, that bit's new.' She tipped a small amount of drink into his bill. "How is that, dad? Do you want more?"  
His chest expanded rapidly against her other hand. "Give me the blood, Gos-a-lyn!"  
"It's in a glass, dad. Let me feed you."  
His scratchy fingers rested behind her shoulders. His eyes were fixated on the glass.

"Easy." Gosalyn told him softly as she brought the glass to his beak once again, keeping her fingers well clear of his fangs.

Gosalyn's father gulped it down as fast as she poured and the glass was soon empty. She made to pull away but his fingers closed tighter around her shoulders and she couldn't budge.

"Blood." His eyelids flickered again. "At last. Blood." He licked his beak. His fangs were still extended and they looked very long and dangerously sharp. Then his eyes focused on Gosalyn. "Blood."  
She squawked. "Ach! No, dad!"

He pulled her closer, sniffing at her, bringing his beak closer to her neck. Gosalyn shut her eyes, trembling in fear.

Then his grip on her loosened. "Child. My child."  
Gosalyn gasped in relief. "Yes, dad."  
She closed her eyes as he held her against him much more protectively.

Gosalyn had pitted one instinctive vampire reaction against the other, and it had been a frighteningly close outcome.

... And she had to do it all over again tomorrow.

* * *

...


	16. Natural Phenomena

_A/N: Okay, so it's still a lame title. I shoulda been in bed half an hour ago I am just so tired who cares._**  
**

* * *

**Natural Phenomena **

* * *

_One Night..._

**1. Find a nice girl made of flesh and blood**  
**2. Ask her on a date**  
**3. Show up on time for the date**  
**4. Be nice to her for the whole date**  
**5. Ask her for another date**

**6. Look for a proper job you would like to do**  
**7. Convince them they need you to do the job**  
**8. If someone offers you a proper job, take it**  
**9. Show up on time for your job**  
**10. Don't zap anybody while you're doing your job**

"A flesh and blood girl? Talk about picky." Megavolt sat at the bar, scrutinizing his mother's messy handwriting on the crumpled envelope, the sound of clinking balls on the billiards table behind him. "I've got to hand it to her; ma has really spelt out what she thinks I'm missing in my life. Hmm ..." He mused as he unplugged himself from the mains. "Maybe Liquidator can help me with the girl part."

Megavolt wandered out of the pub.

"He-ey wait! You're not Darkwing Duck!"  
"He's not Darkwing Duck?"  
"Get him, everybody!"  
Megavolt twisted his head as the large group of hoodlums rushed past him. "What's the point in getting him if he isn't Darkwing?" He yelled after them. He watched as the tall dark avian fired the gas gun and managed to cause enough distraction in time to disappear.

Megavolt took a moment to consider all this. If someone was dressing up as Darkwing Duck, but in fact was not him ... well, a really good question was 'why?'

"Hmm ... I wonder what would happen if I go down here?" He ventured down the alleyway to emerge on the next street.  
The figure dressed in Darkwing's costume was panting heavily, leaning against a nearby lamppost.

"Boy, this is a lot tougher than he makes it out to be."  
According to the gang of hoods this wasn't Darkwing so this being the case Megavolt wasn't sure of how to address him.

Darkwing had never been taller than Megavolt before like this one and the physical difference was reassuring so he stepped closer. "It is, huh?"  
"Sure is. He really plays it down, that DW."  
'Dee dubba ewe ... boy now that's familiar ...' Megavolt wracked his brain.  
"Argh, Megavolt!"  
"What?" Megavolt jumped, looking wildly around the street for the cause of alarm.  
"No ... you're the one that's Megavolt."  
"No! I mean, yes, I am! I know I'm Megavolt!"

The purple clothed figure backed away from Megavolt, aiming the gas gun at him. "Now, um ... I am the terror-." He began reciting much to Megavolt's annoyance.  
"Oh, please." Megavolt scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "You haven't even reloaded it."  
The stand-in checked the barrel. "Oh, right, thanks." He stuffed a grenade into it.

Now it was loaded. Megavolt mentally slapped himself.  
"Hey, you know, he's right, you're not so bad."  
"No, I'm Megavolt, the super villain. I'm not just bad, I'm super bad. I-am-Megavolt!"  
"No, I mean DW."  
"Huh?" Megavolt scratched his head.

"Well, um, hey, aren't you supposed to be the bad guy? Aren't you're supposed to fry me or something?"

There was one thing Megavolt had figured out from his most recent run-ins with Darkwing was that vampires never minded being zapped. He figured it had something to do with an increased energy conversion capacity that was inherently linked to their molecular shifting ability. Of course his theory made perfect sense, so any vampire asking to be zapped was really just hoping for a free snack. So that led Megavolt to the question of: 'Was this person a vampire?' Megavolt looked at the shop front beside them for an answer. The black glass reflected both of them against the street backdrop. The stand-in Darkwing had a reflection. Megavolt also had a reflection ... well, yes, he'd never really doubted that but with two of them reflecting in the window that meant that neither of them were vampires.

In short, Megavolt concluded that this guy that he was talking to right now was clearly just an ordinary nutcase in a duplicate Darkwing costume and his question didn't deserve an answer.

"Sa-ay ... What happened to Darkwing Duck? Why are you pretending to be him?" 'More to the point: What's out there that could take Darkwing off the streets?' Megavolt didn't like the sound of that. 'Whatever it was could take me out next. As if my life wasn't short enough with-'  
"It was Photon Pig." The costumed actor answered his question. "He used to be a technician at Xo Tech. Since he got DW, he hasn't stopped killing people ... and I can't do a thing about it."

The actor, for that's all he really was took a shaky breath. "If only DW was ... He'd find a way! It's funny, I guess. I got so caught up in it. I mean ... with DW around, you gotta believe! You just can't help it. There's nobody like DW. He never could quit. And nothing ever stopped him before. Not ... not like ... thi-this. I ju-."  
"Stop-babbling!" Megavolt grabbed the front of his purple jacket and desperately shook him. "Get a grip! You remind me of Bushroot." He turned away from the dark clothed actor. "Geez."

"Phew, thanks!" The actor remarked after a few moments of calming down. "I didn't realise how much I needed that."

'Photon Pig.' Megavolt mused on the lab coat turned psychopath and his luminescent powers. "I figured Darkwing was impervious to ordinary light rays ..." Had Photon Pig actually built the weapon that Megavolt had thought up?  
"Well, yeah, but all vampires are the night time sort. And that photonic cannon of his gives out really bright light. It's kinda like having three weeks of days in one hit. It ... It's not pretty."

Megavolt saw the masked mallard blanch.

'Photon had the same idea as me, alright.' Megavolt was glad that with a few exceptions most evil genius supervillains didn't quarrel about things like patents. "Technically," Megavolt explained, "he's harnessed the ability to replicate a supernova effect and has rendered it into a small portable weapon. I've really gotta hand it to him for his ingenuity."

"I uh, hum ... supernova? Sure. But uh ... that's kinda important, but I uh ... still can't stop him killing people."  
"Sure, right." Megavolt muttered not really too concerned with those sorts of minor details. "But what about Darkwing Duck? Is he really dead?"

The stand-in turned away, his shoulders slumped. "Well ... I guess I'd ... better be going." There was something tragic about the Darkwing stand-in that made Megavolt turn away in discomfort. He had his own troubles to think about.

Megavolt began walking back to his lighthouse. He turned down the last stretch, the dirt road heading straight out along Beaker's Point. The smell of the salty sea breeze whipped at his face telling him of a storm brewing off the coastline. The lighthouse wasn't the greatest hiding place because everyone that might bother him knew he lived here. But it was his home.

Out here water surrounded him on three sides and he often watched out the window at the sharks circling their prey a short way out into the bay not too far beyond the precariously jagged embankment of rocks. The lighthouse. What a glorious proclamation advocating the importance of luminaries.  
And plus the electricity supply was guaranteed or else the night trawlers would run themselves aground on the spit.

Megavolt stepped off the pathway and stopped, looking up to the window from his nightmare for a time. Maybe he'd been defying death for too long. Maybe, like Darkwing he'd been living on borrowed time. With a yawn he shook himself and went inside. "I'll start work on your list tomorrow, ma." He promised.

* * *

_Elsewhere in America..._

Felicia watched out of the window at the darkness around them as the speakers told them to fasten their seatbelts.  
"It's a lot different from a domestic flight carrier, don't you think?"  
She turned her head to the grey wispy haired woman beside her that had been sleeping most of the way. "I've never had much use for domestic flights, Mrs Hatchett." She replied.  
"My husband loved to fly."  
"Why, what happened that he stopped?"  
Mrs Hatchett blinked at Felicia. "He'd been sick for a while."  
"Too sick to fly?"  
"Rather so. He died, dear."  
"Oh." Felicia muttered. "I'm so sorry. I remember when my dad died. It wasn't easy on my mother."  
"That's alright, dear." Mrs Hatchett smiled at her. "I always keep him with me."  
"Okay?" Felicia raised an eyebrow. "So you have a feather from him or something?"  
"Or something." Mrs Hatchett grinned widely at Felicia in response.  
"Yes, that's a very convincing act." Felicia raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Have you frightened many airline workers on your travels?"  
Mrs Hatchett chuckled and leaned towards Felicia conspiratorially. "Only when they ask me why I have so many bags when I travel."  
Felicia chuckled. "I sure do like you, Mrs Hatchett. If someone tries to push you around you push them right back."

Time passed and Mrs Hatchett was telling more colourful stories about her life, coaxing a few out of Felicia as well.

After hearing the abridged version of her recent Paris disaster Mrs Hatchett patted Felicia's knee. "You'll be alright, dear. You'll see."  
"You can't see the future, Mrs Hatchett."  
"Chance meeting as it may be, but I can see you're a fighter."  
"Thanks." She smiled back at the elderly lady.

* * *

Felicia disembarked from the plane with her fellow passengers and was there at checkout.

"Welcome back to America, Miss Well." The airport officer glanced up at her. "I beg your pardon, but ... can you confirm your age, Miss Well?"  
"May I ask why?"  
"It appears that you're travelling under your mother's passport."  
"Ridiculous. My mother is Kyla Dena Princeton and she is three and twenty one years older than I am. My name is Felicia Well and I'm only one seventeen."  
"It says here you were here in the eighties. You have to be older than that."  
"No, no. I'm one hundred and seventeen."  
"Well, I'm sorry but you certainly don't look a hundred and seventeen years old."

"My life span is longer than yours and I eat healthy." Felicia crossed her arms. "Look, I can prove I was here in the eighties. You women were all wearing bright red pleated skirts with matching jackets and that half baked jingle you were using went la-la-lah la-la-lah travel flight, feather light over and over till we all went insane waiting in the lounge and the furniture upholstery was cream coloured. In the sixties; the colour of your minis was green ... oh, and everyone was wearing that horrible deodorant that smelt overwhelmingly like cat musk and incense-especially the chap behind this counter called Steph Millhund ... look ... is there a problem with my work visa?"  
"No!" The woman behind the counter yipped. "Please move along!"  
"Gladly." Felicia shook her head and walked off.

"For a moment there I thought I would have to do something vampirical."

* * *

Now she was legitimately in America, Felicia had no reason to buy another airline ticket. She grabbed her bags and headed towards the door.

By the time she'd get to St Canard, it'd be nearly dawn. She was due at her new job after seven. She also needed to look for an apartment at some point today. She looked at the dark sky, thunder rumbling overhead. Ten minutes ago there was a full moon and the storm clouds were far out to sea. But now it was so dark that no one would notice a large leathery creature from the dawn of avian civilisation flying in the air laden with luggage. After an electrical crash of light, Felicia shifted her form, grabbed the bags and took off.


	17. Welcome

**Welcome Friday Morning**

* * *

Felicia Well checked her reflection in her hand held mirror. The youthful duck was slender and tall, but dressed in a light brown tweed skirt and matching jacket with her brown hair done in a very modern business up do. No one was going to complain with the way she presented herself. Why, it was fresh out of this month's fashion magazine. She walked out and into the meeting.

"We're very pleased to welcome you to our network, Miss Felicia Well."

Felicia sat at the table with the network newscasting team and president.

"I'm sure you will find your way around soon enough."  
"I heard you covered the fashion fair in Paris for years. I suppose you'll be wanting to ..."  
"I'd like to meet some real people for a change." Felicia interceded. "If it is at all possible."  
"We certainly do need to have someone get back on the streets."

Felicia read their faces. "Why, what happened to the previous reporter who was doing it?"

"Waddle!" Someone hissed.  
"This is why you're not in front of the camera, you Wad." Another of them snitted.  
"He uh ... Raul Rhode took the train to Duckberg. But we don't ..."

Felicia put her hands in her lap, clenching her fingers. "Is someone going to jail for that?" They all were fiercely terrified and said nothing. "So, why was he killed?"  
"Because he got in the way. Of Photon Pig, I mean."  
"I ... beg your pardon?" A who pig?  
"He's the new super villain in town." The ... new ... super villain?

"Pardon me?" They all blinked back at her. "I know I may be from Paris, but I do not believe you are speaking English."  
"I thought you knew. St Canard has super villains."  
"I can't say they mentioned that in the brochure." Literally. The travellers guide had told her it was a lovely city with a low crime rate, and a high economic value to America. "So tell me more about this Futon Pig?"

"Photon. Darkwing Duck hasn't managed to pen him yet, and it's been ages. All he's managed to do is prevent Photon from igniting the city with his solar amplified powers."  
"And Darkwing Duck is ...?"  
"Well, he's uh ..."  
"Some goon in a costume and a cape. Well, that's how we market him."

"But you talk about him like you expect him to actually stop this super villain. Would that not say something against that idea?"  
"Darkwing Duck is a fraud at the very least." The president snapped. "At the most, he's the worst kind of person there is: a vigilante."  
"So ... That is this network's stand on the subject?"  
"Yes. And as an employee it's your job to keep the network happy."  
"Of course. I was just making sure of how I was to do this."

* * *

Megavolt wasn't familiar with this side of life at all. He stepped into the lobby of Xo Technology. He looked around. It wasn't a bank, and he wasn't here to do something other people wouldn't understand. This ... he was doing something ... normal.

He cleared his throat as the two people were engrossed in their conversation, standing over the computers at the reception desk. "Excuse me."

"Sorry."  
"Photon Pig's stolen our microwave converter assembly and the whole of level ..." The beagle straightened and double blinked. "Megavolt. Sorry, Photon Pig has already stolen our microwave converter assembly; you'll have to go somewhere else."  
"I don't want a microwave converter ... today." Megavolt added the last word, knowing how useful one of those was of occasion. "I recently heard you lost two of your lab technicians."  
"Oh, poor Jason." The woman sat down and grabbed a wad of tissues, sniffing and blowing her nose, incessantly sobbing.

Megavolt tapped his fingers on the countertop. It was shiny, and because it was made of a reflective sort of stonework, it would easily rebound a sudden electrical surge. But that was just fancy.

The woman had no ability to pull herself together regardless of what Megavolt could do.  
"Don't you have hundreds of employees here?"  
"Well, yeah, but most of them are just ..." The beagle snapped his mouth shut. "But you, now ..." He circled Megavolt, looking him up and down. "How are you in quantum physics?"  
"I grew up on the stuff."

"I'm Gray Lite; I have majority shareholding in Xo Technology. I mean, I'd still have 100% shareholding, if only I could've kept hold of that finance, but anyway!" The beagle grabbed Megavolt's gloved hand in a firm shake that took Megavolt by surprise. "How would you like a job in my company?"

Megavolt compared this offer with the reason he'd walked in through the doors. "Well, I dunno ..."  
"Of course, I can't have ... well, what I mean, is that all Xo technology employees get good salaries and have no need to resort to criminal activities to achieve their personal aspirations."  
'Give up being a criminal? No more Darkwing Duck? No more Negaduck?'

"Su-re." Megavolt drew out the word, not wanting to sound too excited. "Sign me up."


	18. Reboot

**Reboot**

* * *

It was bright and early on a Saturday morning. The sun was out and, bonus, it was the weekend.

Gosalyn felt like ants were crawling under her skin. She sat there in front of the TV with Morgana's third familiar Archie asleep on her head. She was getting more irritated by the minute as the giant stuffed puppettoon host with its hyped-up onstage co-host sucked an extra ten minutes out of Gosalyn's life between badly animated cartoons with lame stories in order to discuss what makes the light bulb in the fridge turn off when they close the door and of course how could they know for sure unless they did an experiment with the help of another smaller puppet friend?

Gosalyn groaned in mental anguish and desperately turned the television off. She was instantly plunged into a deathly silence which enveloped the entire house.

"There's-nothing ...!" She caught the scream that threatened out of her beak and wake her father at such an early hour on a Saturday morning. Then she remembered her father wouldn't have woken to her yell anyway. His 'fridge light' couldn't come on because his mental door was jammed shut. Gosalyn felt she was teetering on the brink of despair and searched for the reason and a solution.

"I gotta get out of here!"

Gosalyn wandered into the garage and quickly came across her dad's gardening tools. That was great, but there was never much to do. Despite having a busy and cluttered mind, Drake tended to keep everything around him minimalist.  
She'd raked the leaves last weekend but it was so far into autumn that this time they hadn't come back.  
"I wish I had an idea of what I could do." She sighed. "I wish I had a light bulb-."

Sudden inspiration hit and Gosalyn remembered a big project that she'd forgotten needed doing. "Mrs. Sputterspark's garden!"  
Without further ado, she bundled the equipment up into a spare sports bag. With the front door locked behind her and her helmet on her head, Gosalyn slung the sports bag on her back, got on her bike and then took off down the road.

* * *

Gosalyn was shortly standing on the porch waiting as the door swung open. "Hi Mrs. S!" Gosalyn chimed, getting a distinct scent of coffee. "I'm here to help tidy up your garden for you."  
"Oh, no, really I ..." The woman Sylvia Sputterspark hesitated, scrutinizing Gosalyn. "That would be very good of you..." There was a flash of befuddled worry on her face. "Now that I've said yes I'm afraid I can be of very little assistance in this matter."  
"No worries!" Gosalyn nearly shouted in relief. "You just go back in and finish your coffee. I've brought everything I need."

* * *

Later on after a few hours of relentless hacking and snipping Gosalyn was coaxed inside for a drink. Mrs. Sputterspark's kitchen had baby blue and light yellow paint, but it was worn and chipped from the years of use.  
"Gosalyn, now, here you are." Sylvia gave her the glass of cordial.

"Why don't you tell me what's upsetting you?"  
"Oh, I'm alright, Mrs. S."  
"No, I don't think you are." Sylvia sighed. "Honestly, darling, you can tell me. I can keep secrets too, even from my own son."  
"Dad's real sick." Gosalyn confessed. Tears filled her eyes. Sylvia hugged her. "I've been trying ..." She sobbed.  
"You've been trying to keep it together. Gosalyn, sometimes you just need to cry and let it all out."  
"It's never solved any problems. My mother and father died, and then grandpa died. I always knew that what dad does for his job is dangerous." She sighed, trying to shake the tears. "It's a good thing, like you know, he's not dead. That means he's going to get better eventually. I mean, that makes sense. So why am I still crying?"  
"It's because you need to cry, sweetie." Sylvia hugged her.

"You've got twigs all through your hair." Mrs. Sputterspark muttered, starting to pull them out.  
"Ow!"  
"Oh, dear." Sylvia tsked. "Let's start again, shall we?"  
"Start again?"  
"Hold on." Sylvia stood up and went away.

Gosalyn drank her cordial. She looked up as Mrs. S. came back having fetched a brush. "Oh, no way!" Gosalyn scrunched her face up. "I'd rather have twigs in my hair. I mean really."  
"Oh, please." Mrs. Sputterspark begged, "I haven't done this since I was in school."  
Gosalyn sighed and nodded.  
"You make it sound like I'm giving you a needle or something. Honestly." Sylvia undid Gosalyn's ponytails and threaded her fingers through her hair, shaking free most of the leaves and twigs.

"Oh, you've got sticky cobwebs on you too."  
"That might've been Archie from this morning." Gosalyn shrugged.  
"You have a pet spider?"  
"He's actually Morgana's, but he's my friend too."  
"Oh, well, it's always good to make new friends. That's what I always tell my son." Sylvia started running the brush through Gosalyn's hair.

"What are the sorts of things Archie likes talking about?"  
"I'm not crazy, Mrs. S."  
"He doesn't talk to you?"  
Gosalyn turned around and looked at Sylvia. "Archie's not a real spider. He's a familiar. He's got as much brains as everyone else. Perhaps more because he's actually really old."  
"Wouldn't that make Morgana a witch?"  
Gosalyn nodded solemnly. "She's really cool."  
"What an interesting life you have." Sylvia concluded. "Now, two pigtails, not one pony tail?"  
"Yes, two." She sat back down. "Please."

* * *

Megavolt knocked on the greenhouse door.  
"Megsy?" Bushroot opened the door and let him in. "What's up?"  
"I was wondering ..." He scratched his head. "Where do you get your lab coats from?"  
Reginald blinked. "My friends make them for me."  
"Oh." That wasn't the answer Megavolt had expected. "Er, in that case can I have one?"  
Bushroot cocked an eyebrow. "I think I have one spare that you can have." Bushroot walked off, leaving Megavolt staring at a particularly large rosemary bush.  
"Erm ... how do you do?"  
Bushroot came back.  
"I've never seen one grow so big Bushy, even in my mum's old vegetable patch." Megavolt pointed at the rosemary.  
Bushroot turned, considering the plant before turning back to Megavolt. "It's my new formula." Bushroot frowned. "Only it makes them rather demanding as well. I've changed her pot three times this week." Bushroot looked at Megavolt. "Why do you need the lab coat? I mean; if you don't mind me asking."

"I didn't want to risk asking my mum and letting her know just in case it didn't work out." Megavolt said cryptically. "Thanks for this."  
"You don't want to tell me? Megavolt has a secret?" Bushroot stared wide-eyed at him. "Oh, come on, we're friends. We tell each other stuff."  
"It's a job." Megavolt clenched the coat in his gloved hands in excitement. A real lab job."  
"Wow." Bushroot blinked at him. "You mean, where you go there every day and ... work? And get paid?"  
"Yes. It's research and experiment stuff." Megavolt said proudly.  
"Wow." Bushroot repeated quieter. "Good luck, buddy. Let me know how you go with it."  
"Thanks ..." Megavolt grinned. "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing!" He laughed wildly. "But it's definitely something new, and I want to do everything I've never gotten around to doing in my life."  
"Well, having a job is like ..." Bushroot scratched his head. "After a while it's like coming home. It's always there where you left it. Well, you hope. Good luck, Megsy, I really mean it." Bushroot clasped his shoulder with an encouraging smile. "You seem happier than you've been for a while so it's already a good thing."

* * *

Megavolt ... no, Elmo Sputterspark. He blinked at his reflection in the glass front doors of Xo Technology building. He felt slightly overdressed, wearing the white lab coat over his protective rubber suit.

Elmo stepped into the building and walked to the reception desk. "Hello? I'm expected?"  
The woman blinked up at him. "I'll call Gray down for you, mister Megavolt."  
"Elmo." He corrected. "Elmo Sputterspark."  
"Oh." She blinked up at him. "I'm Cassuara Role ... You're not going to remember my name but anyway."  
"I do have a bad memory." Elmo blushed.  
"Most people around here do." She smiled at him. "No big deal."


	19. Toast Reprised

**Toast Reprised**

* * *

He woke up in his bed to find himself aching from head to foot.

Half awake, Drake pondered the silence that greeted him. He couldn't hear anything going on in the rest of the house. There was no Gosalyn in her room or Launchpad in the kitchen. No ticking of the hallway clock downstairs met his ear slits. He sat up with a start and listened as hard as he could for anything at all but he couldn't hear so much as a spider in the attic over his head. 'It's okay. It's just my hearing is too dull.' He consoled himself. 'If I am in my room then there's got to be an attic above me and if there is an attic then there are spiders and if there are spiders ... which I cannot presently hear ... that's a slightly disturbing notion ... but none-the-less if there are spiders then it follows my little girl will probably be fine too.'

Momentarily relieved at the theory he'd just concocted Drake considered the gloomy haze that was his room. He tried to send out a sonic stream to see his room properly but couldn't because his throat was too sore. What he needed now was a light switch so he could see something. He groped for the lamp.

"Ach!" 'Light!' He flicked it off fast. Burning light. It was light that had burnt him. He shuddered. Now he remembered. Darkwing Duck had barely escaped Photon Pig.

Darkwing had the criminal identified. He had a trail and he had a vague idea of the scheme. He'd even found Photon Pig and had nearly caught him. The crime fighter had vampire strength and agility, he had vampire tolerance to heat and he could last in a desert for two months if necessary. What he didn't have was a tolerance to Photon Pig's Photonic hand gun which emitted a burst of ultra bright light. Thanks to a piece of masterful planning he hadn't had to face the cannon sized version.

Luck was also on his side. If he could hear his own voice then clearly he wasn't completely deaf.

* * *

Drake listened as the door creaked ajar, bringing to his ear slits a familiar and reassuring set of youthful heartbeats. His daughter Gosalyn came into the room and shut the door behind her. The way that she was walking was slightly odd ... She was holding something, he surmised. As to what it was he had to guess.  
Or just ask. "Gosalyn ... What is that?" He discovered his voice came out as an ancient dusty croak and he had to work for each syllable.  
His daughter didn't answer immediately. "You need it, dad." He wasn't well and still she was trying to mislead him. The ten year old put the tray down on the table beside him.  
"Gosalyn." It hurt to even talk at all.  
She sighed and then held the glass out to him. "What colour is it, dad?"  
"It's ... red." It could be tomato juice? But the feeling of deception lingered. And it sure didn't smell like tomato juice.  
"Red." She repeated as she sat down next to him.  
"Gosalyn ...?"  
"Red like what, dad?"  
"Gosalyn ..." 'This is ridiculous.'  
"No, dad."  
"Gosalyn ...?"  
She sighed heavily. Drake got the impression from her that he was being difficult.

Well, if she wanted him to drink it he would to keep her happy. He reached out for the glass.  
"It's glass, dad."  
'What an odd thing to say ... does she think I'll drop it?' He flexed his aching fingers and decided that maybe he would.  
"Can you smell it, dad?"  
"Yes?" Drake just wasn't entirely sure of what it smelt though. It didn't look like much, other than being red like tomato juice and the lingering sense of Gosalyn's deception. 'It does look like tomato juice, but it sure doesn't smell like it...'  
"I know you're hungry, dad." She put her free hand against his chest.

"Yes." He regretted it, but it was true. The instant she'd said it, the savage hollow craving that he'd been stubbornly ignoring all this time he'd been awake was in the front of his mind again. He closed his eyes. "So-oo ... hungry."  
"Open your beak, dad."  
It seemed awkward and made him feel foolish but reluctantly, he opened his beak for the drink.  
She began steadily pouring it down his throat.

It fizzed and it stung! 'Yuck!' Drake grabbed Gosalyn's hands and forced her and the remaining vile liquid away. He coughed and spluttered. Unfortunately being a vampire, his digestive system worked like a black hole from which nothing ever came back up.  
"Ach, Gosalyn, what is that awful stuff?" He croaked.  
"... But ..."  
"Gos-a-lyn!" He growled her name.

His daughter didn't answer. She just sat there staring at him for a long while with a skeptical look. Drake couldn't help but notice that the glass in her hand was nearly empty of the foul liquid. "Y-yuck." He shuddered at the memory.  
Gosalyn's heart rate sped up and her face flushed with her temper. "Come on, dad!" She quacked, rousing on him. "It's supposed to make you feel better!"  
Drake crossed his arms, eyeing her off with his well-practiced intense parental glare.  
"Ugh." Gosalyn rolled her eyes. "So I've mixed some of Doctor Bellum's substitution formula into the tomato juice. It's only a teaspoon. It's no big deal. Quit being such a baby, dad."  
"Gosalyn. It's a substitution for blood!" He argued hoarsely. "I don't need blood. Ergo I don't need its substitute either. You know that. I even thought you agreed with me on the subject at one point."

Gosalyn was again silent for a long moment. Her heart rate was settling down into their fight and that always made Drake slightly nervous when he was on the receiving end. "If you don't drink it for me, dad," Gosalyn said in a quiet fury, "I'll get someone else to come in here to make you drink it."  
Drake froze in mortification. He didn't want anybody to see him like this! He hesitated and took up the glass.  
"Come on." Gosalyn's voice was encouraging and consoling. "It's good for you. Please, dad."  
"Well, I hope so." He sipped the strange mixture. It fizzed unpleasantly on his tongue.

"I didn't come close to stopping Photon."  
"Launchpad was able to dismantle his equipment before he could get back and toast the city. Have some more, dad."  
Drake coughed. The fizzing felt so weird down his throat. He coughed again, holding the glass out for her to take it back.  
"No, dad."  
"Gosalyn ..."  
"Just drink the juice, dad!" She gritted.  
"It's not juice it's ... I can't even begin to describe it. It's horrible."  
"Please, dad. There's only a little bit left. Just finish the drink."  
Drake closed his eyes, looking for his courage. He only had a split instant of warning that something was wrong. "Wait!"  
Gosalyn grabbed the glass in one hand, forced his beak open with the other and then chucked the remaining liquid down his throat.

Drake coughed miserably. What a horrendous ordeal.  
"There, it's finished now. You can stop worrying." Gosalyn stated sternly and placed the glass on the table.

Once he'd recovered he looked up at her again. She hadn't sounded as triumphant as he expected her to sound. "Now all I have to do is worry about you."  
"I'm alright, dad." Gosalyn reassured him. Her heart rate went calmer. She sat back down on the bed and hugged him.  
He closed his eyes, enjoying the connection with her. "I feel better knowing that."  
"I know. I love you too, dad."  
She pulled away after a time. "Rest now, dad, lie down."

Drake lay back onto the pillow. "At least Launchpad was strong enough to finish the job and stop Photon. I must look awful. I feel terrible."  
"We're all just glad you came back home, dad." She kissed his forehead as she drew the covers up over him. "Now, just make sure you stay rugged up and keep warm." She turned and headed out of the room with the tray and empty glass.

* * *

Morgana had just pulled a tray of freshly baked cookies in her oven mitted hands when she heard Gosalyn hurrying down the stairs and went to meet her.

"How is Dark today?" Morgana asked Gosalyn as she came down the stairs.  
"He's woken up at last!" Gosalyn answered in joyous relief. "But he's still very much on the extra crispy side." Gosalyn mentioned in a warning voice.

Crispy that he was, but Gosalyn's brave exterior was nearly back up to full strength now that she had her father back. And true, Morgana had no reason to doubt Gosalyn's 'crispy' comment but it did feel like Gosalyn was telling her off before she did anything wrong. "You're the one who has been looking after him, Gosalyn; you know what's best." Morgana turned and went back to the kitchen. Certainly spending so much time with Gosalyn had taught her a better understanding of Drake.

The instant Morgana had put the tray down on the cooling rack Gosalyn had snatched up one of the cookies and chomped gratefully into it. She licked her fingers. "Thanks for coming, Morgana, and looking after us. We couldn't have done it without your help."

By Gosalyn calling her for help those few weeks ago, it once again confirmed the child's acceptance of her. So, even though the situation was grave, Morgana felt a happy inclusion in the Mallard family. She nodded. "You've made me feel very welcome, dear. Oh! Did Dark like Doctor Bellum's potion?"  
Gosalyn shook her head. "Dad's always been real fussy about food though."  
"Well ... it certainly proves it's nothing personal." Morgana wasn't sure about being relieved though. She had countless happy memories of helping her aunt in the kitchen and to her feeding people was a show of love and bonding with family. Dark didn't feel the same way. He appreciated the food only inasmuch as what the gesture itself meant. The recipes he'd taught Gosalyn were nutritious, simple to prepare but extremely basic and bland.

Gosalyn was eyeing off another one of Morgana's cookies.  
"Go on, they're good for you." Morgana smiled knowing with the excitement Gosalyn's appetite was back to normal. "They'll keep your strength up." Gosalyn happily grabbed another cookie.  
"It felt strange having this sort of conversation again after so long." Gosalyn pulled a face before she bit into the cookie. "I mean, about him ... not ... knowing what's good for him."  
"Blood is the easiest thing for a vampire to digest. All the nutrients they need all at once. It was clever of you to think about mixing Doctor Bellum's potion in. Or I'm sure he still wouldn't have woken up yet."

"Thanks." Gosalyn smiled up at Morgana for the compliment and then she grew thoughtful again and there was once again no mistake about whose daughter she was for the cunning look on her face. "But I was thinking: maybe we should ask the guys at Hamil Corp for help."  
"Hamil Corp!" Morgana hesitated, wringing her hands. "Yes, I ... I suppose, they are the experts. But do you think Dark would be alright with having any more people know what's happened to him?"  
"If he doesn't get back on the streets soon, a lot of other people are going to start connecting dots, and I know dad would like that even less."  
"That is true. But Launchpad is still standing in for him."  
"Sooner or later they're going to figure it out." Gosalyn argued. "Launchpad's great at posing, but dad trained for years to do what he does."  
Putting the critical and discerning comments aside the child was perfectly right. Morgana nodded, summoning her courage over the idea of entering a vampire stronghold, remembering this was for her Dark and then again she realised she needn't do it alone. "I'm sure Launchpad will help me."  
Gosalyn's face lit up like all the weight of the world was lifted from her troubled shoulders. "Thanks, Morgana. For everything." Gosalyn hugged her tightly.


	20. Love, Always

** Love, Always**

* * *

Drake's eyes flickered open as he woke, sensing Gosalyn coming into the room.  
"Gosalyn."  
"Good morning. How are you feeling, dad?" She put the tray down on the table beside him.  
He couldn't help shuddering as the smell brought up memories of yesterday. "That stuff again?"  
"Yes, dad, you need it."  
"I don't need blood. I don't need its substitute." He repeated his argument from hours earlier.  
"I know you're hungry, dad."

He hesitated. It was true, but then he was always hungry, so now was little different. It was nothing he couldn't handle.

"I'm not hungry enough for that."  
"Good! Then it must be working." Gosalyn's voice almost had a positiveness attached to it. She picked up the foolish mixture and sat down next to him.  
"Gosalyn." He closed his eyes, looking for his patience.  
"What colour is it, dad?"  
He glared at her reproachfully. "What difference does that make?" He countered with irritation. "You asked me that last night."  
"And I'm asking again this morning. Red like what, dad?" Gosalyn asked in a steady voice.  
He took a breath as though a door had opened a crack in his mind. "Gosalyn."  
"No, dad, red like what?"  
"Red like ..." 'Red ...' he stared at it, that mental door opening, the colour connection of the object of his need, the glass of liquid that was red like blood ... he hesitated for control, licking his beak. Sustenance, red and fresh just a hand's grasp away. "I'm so hungry."  
She hovered the glass nearby. "Like what, dad?"  
"Like ... like ..." He fought back a spasm of energy in his body that begged him to get up and give chase. "Like blood."  
"Just like blood." Gosalyn put her free hand against his chest. "Open your mouth, dad."

He shut his eyes and shook his head. All his nerves were tingling. He had to protect her from the beast inside him. He tried to pull away from her, but she was already sitting in his lap. If he pushed her away he would also be pushing the sustenance away.  
"Let me feed you, dad." She paused. "You need blood, dad. Open your mouth."  
There weren't any other options but to give in and follow her directions. He opened his mouth, and flinched with a ghastly horror as he felt his teeth slide out of their sheaths. He felt a tingling sensation as the cold air wrought havoc on his extra-sensitive nerve endings.  
She poured the liquid down his throat. He didn't resist her. He was too hungry.

She drew the empty glass away. Her heart was pounding; he could sense the blood rushing through her. His little girl. He quickly turned his head away, begging for control. Little Gosalyn. His little girl. He couldn't harm her.

It felt like a long moment as he channelled his memories and gained control again. "God, Gosalyn, that's a dangerous thing for you to do." He took a steadying breath, still fighting the beast back into the duck cage. Tears were stinging his eyes. "That stuff is a bad idea. It's dangerous."  
"It's a good idea when you're so sick."  
"That's even worse because I can barely control myself!" He squawked. Then he shuddered, "I love you, Gosalyn, it's awful to think ..."  
"You haven't."  
"It takes all my willpower!" He sobbed and held her tightly in his arms. "If anything happened to you ..."  
"Dad," Gosalyn said softly, "you've lost weeks. You haven't had any willpower till you woke up yesterday. And I'm alright. You haven't hurt me once."  
"Weeks ..." Drake frowned. This was serious but he couldn't remember why at the moment.  
"I'm sure if you were on the savannah or somewhere you could just eat an onyx or something and you'd be better straight away. But I didn't think you'd appreciate me robbing a donor clinic, so this is all you've been getting."  
"I could've killed someone." He muttered in horror.  
"Well you haven't, because you knew I'd look after you." Gosalyn gave him another tight hug and then she stood up and put the glass on the tray.

She looked at him and her expression was keen again. "I'm glad you're awake, dad." She sighed. "But it doesn't matter whether you're awake or not, I still have the same arguments with you! Lie down, dad, you need to rest."  
He frowned and lay back onto the pillow. "So ... You've argued with me when I wasn't awake?"  
She drew the covers up. "Yes, dad. Every evening I have to convince you to drink, regardless of what it is. And I have to give you a hug or else you refuse to lie down properly."  
"Well I'm sorry I've been so difficult."  
"What do you mean 'been'?" She remarked with a good humoured smirk and smoothed down the covers. "Get some sleep, dad." She kissed his forehead, picked up the tray and turned back to him when she reached the door. "I'm so glad to have you back, dad. I've missed you so much."

"I love you too, Gosalyn." He closed his eyes as she shut the door behind her.


End file.
